"Whom have you invited?"
"There is the list—you can read it."
He looked at it surlily. "How many rooms do you open?"
"The parlors and dining room;—unless you prefer to have the dressing-rooms in the third story, and give up your chamber to the dancers."
"Have the goodness to leave me out of the scrape. I shall go to bed directly after supper. You two may do your husband hunting without my help. I pity the man who gets either of you."
"Since you are so much opposed to this party, I will recall my invitations to-morrow morning," retorted Josephine, irritated by his peevish vulgarity, to take a high stand herself.
"You will not, Miss! Carry out what you have commenced—much joy may you have of it!"
What pleasure or benefit could arise from this snarling contradiction, would have defied a wiser brain than Ida's to determine. She once imagined it a part of Mr. Read's schooling; that he sought to inure his pupil to the treatment she would receive from the world; but this impression was corrected by observing that the effrontery he had taught her angered him beyond measure, when exhibited towards himself. Variance appeared to be necessary to their existence; a safety-valve, for the ill humors they could not throw out upon others. It was a curious fact that their going into company, at home or abroad, was invaribly preceded by this moral phlebotomizing, and in proportion to the extent of the depletion, was the subsequent affability. It was therefore to be expected that they should appear in the drawing-room on the evening of the party, looking their best;—she, deferentially respectful to "Papa," and he, marking "my daughter, sir's," motions with paternal pride. A large party usually belongs to one of two classes—the stiffly regular, or the noisily irregular. At the former, there is considerably less sociability and ease than is prevalent among a corps of raw recruits upon parade, under the eye of a martinet drilled serjeant. As many as can obtain seats, seize them; a vacant chair is rushed for, as in the game of "budge-all," and the hapless standers are awkwardly alive to the circumstance of being, not men, but hands, legs and feet; white kid gloves are at a premium, a bouquet is a godsend;—the pulling off and on of the first, and the criticism of the latter, are engrossing subjects of reflection and entertainment. There are knots of men in the entry, and in the corners, and behind doors; and rows of ladies against the wall, and stretched out transversely and longitudinally through the room. Supper over, watches are slyly consulted, yawns dexterously swallowed, and presently the crowd is thinner, though no one goes. Then come whispered adieux;—"so sorry to quit your charming party at this early hour,—but papa charged me to be home by twelve, and he is so particular;" and "my dear Mrs. Heavyaslead, I must tear myself away—mamma was not well to-night; I am quite uneasy about her;"—and there are headaches and sideaches, and toothaches, until the poor hostess wonders that she never suspected before what an unhealthy circle of acquaintances she has.
At a gathering of the second class, everybody knows everybody else, or gets acquainted off-hand, with or without an introduction. The company are, to a man, in favor of a standing army. Except a small number of chairs, over which are carefully trained the confirmed wall-flowers, seats are voted in the way;—each joke is capital;—each laugh a scream. Girls rattle and coquet, and gentlemen bow and flatter; you stumble upon a flirtation at every step, and cannot tread upon a boot or corn without cutting a gallant speech in the middle; time pieces are put back two or three hours, and ostentatiously showed around, to prove that "there is time enough yet." Morning breaks, ere the revellers unwillingly depart, and Mr. and Mrs. Cricketspry hear, for six months after, of the "splendid time we had at your party."
Miss Read's soiree promised to be of the first-named order.—A large proportion of her guests were strangers to each other, and she had not the tact to amalgamate the mixture. A hostess must be impartial; the safest course is to ignore the object of her preference, even at the risk of being misunderstood; better offend one, than an hundred. Josephine made no such heroic sacrifice. She had invited Mr. Lacy; the rest were there to see, and they were not backward to discern this. She had twice made the circuit of the rooms upon his arm, and stood for half an hour between the folding-doors, in conversation, that, so far as her efforts went, was confidential, when her father touched her shoulder. "Are we to have no dancing, Josey?"