It suits him exactly. He says as much.
“Now, what will you have to eat?”
The waiter has given him a menu card, containing, so it seems to the young man, a million things that he might have. A dinner served in courses was something beyond his knowledge until the night before, and the dinner then was table d'hôte instead of à la carte. He flounders through the card and is about ready to thrust it aside and say, “Just bring me some ham and eggs” when his host sees his predicament.
“Blue Points are usually good at this time of the year,” he says. “Shall we try them?”
The young man has not the remotest idea what Blue Points are but he thinks it will be very delightful to try them.
“What kind of soup do you like?” the host continues when the waiter has departed. “I see they have vegetable soup and consommé.”
The young man clutches at the familiar straw. He will have vegetable soup.
Throughout the meal the host makes comments and suggestions and guides his guest through to the end, and does it so graciously that the young man from Smithville is not aware that he is doing it, and feels that it is all due to his own quick observation that he is getting along so well. No business man is a perfect host until he can accomplish this.
Our young man knows already that one should sit up at a table and not lean forward or lounge back, that he should not take large mouthfuls and that he should not snap at his food, that he should eat without noise and with great cleanliness. He knows that his napkin should be unfolded (it should be unfolded once and not spread out) and laid across his lap, not tucked into his collar or the top of his vest. He knows that he should not eat with his knife.
He has never seen a finger bowl before but he has heard of them, so that when one is placed before him he knows that he should dip the ends of his fingers into it and dry them on his napkin. He has also heard that toothpicks are never used by gentlemen, at least in public, and he is not surprised when he does not see them.