There is nothing very puzzling about the etiquette of the table. One who knows how to behave elsewhere knows how to behave at the table. The chief thing to be remembered is that good manners everywhere rest on a strong foundation of common-sense and kind feeling, and that nobody is clumsy or awkward who is free from self-consciousness. If one is thinking of herself and of the sort of impression she is making, she will be likely to blunder. You must dismiss yourself from your mind.
"But what bothers me," says Ruth, "is the fact that there is no fixed rule about what to do, and what not to do. Which is right, to take my soup-plate from the waitress, or to let her take my empty plate and set the filled plate in its place herself? And in some houses you are helped to salad, and in others you have to help yourself when it is handed to you. Is it rude to ask for a second helping of something you like? or, when you decline a thing, is it proper to explain that you like it, but it does not agree with you?"
As to the last of these little worries, my dear child, never do that. Never tell your hostess or your friends that lobster gives you cramps, and stuffed olives produce heart-burn, and pastry causes dyspepsia. It is in the worst taste imaginable to speak of these effects, and wholly needless. You may always pass over or decline a dish of which you are not desirous of partaking. It is usually right to ask for a second helping of some viand which pleases you, and your hostess will consider herself complimented by your doing this; but the exception is, when the meal is a formal one of numerous courses, and when you are doing so would retard the orderly progress of the meal. In doubt about any little detail, look to your hostess and follow her example. The waitress is trained to certain ways, and she will do as she is accustomed to; you have therefore no responsibility.
In talking at the table, if the company is large, you will usually converse more with your neighbor than with the circle as a whole. But at home and in the family, or at the house of an intimate friend, you must do your share of the entertainment. Save up the bright little story and the witty speech, the funny sayings of a child, the scrap of news in your Aunt Mary's last letter, and when a good opportunity offers, add your mite to the general fund of amusement.
There are dear old gentlemen—and old ladies too—who have favorite stories which they are rather fond of telling. People in their own families, or among their very intimate acquaintances, hear these stories more than once—indeed, they sometimes hear them till they become very familiar. Good manners forbid any showing of this, any look of impatience or appearance of boredom on the part of the listener. The really well-bred woman or girl listens to the thrice-told tale, the well-worn anecdote, says a pleasant word, smiles, forgets that she has heard it before, and does not allow the dear raconteur to fancy that the story is being brought out too often. Good manners at the table are inflexible on this point. You must appear pleased. You must give pleasure to others. You must make up your mind to receive gratification by imparting it.
Once in a while an accident happens at a meal. A cup is overturned; some unhappy person swallows "the wrong way"; somebody makes a mistake. Look at your plate at such a moment, and nowhere else, unless you can sufficiently control your face and appear entirely unconscious that anything has occurred out of the usual routine. Take no notice, and go on with the conversation, and in a second the incident will have been forgotten by every one.
