THE BRIDE’S FIRST DINNER PARTY.
By PHILLIS BROWNE, Author of “The Girl’s Own Cookery Book.”
A certain young lady, a member of The Girl’s Own Cookery Class (in other words, an individual who has educated herself in cookery, with the assistance of articles published in this journal), was married a few weeks ago. Her husband is an exceedingly good fellow, and holds a salaried position in a mercantile establishment. He has plenty of common sense and energy, and, if all goes well, he will make his way; but at the present moment he is not very well off. He has, however, managed to save enough to furnish the small home very prettily and very well, while his wife has received from her father a handsome trousseau, a good supply of house linen of every sort and kind, and a good many odds and ends of things. Besides this, the young couple, having a large circle of friends, have been presented with a considerable number of wedding presents.
Young beginners in these days are really very fortunate; for they get so much friendly help in starting life. It very much simplifies matters if, just as one has arrived at the conclusion that a dinner service is imperatively required, but that the money for purchasing the same is not immediately forthcoming, a knock is heard at the door, and a box is brought in containing a handsome dinner service of the newest pattern and latest fashion, as a small proof of the affection of a friend. The young people now referred to have been most lucky in this way. They must have received scores of presents, all useful, all judiciously chosen, and with only two duplicates, which were speedily exchanged for something else. That delightful Parcel Post has been a messenger of good fortune to them. Pretty things for the table have arrived in profusion; ornaments, pictures, silver, glass, china, cutlery have appeared upon the scene as if by magic; and the result of it all is that the home of this newly-wedded pair is as thoroughly well appointed all the way through as anyone need wish a home to be.
The routine of married life in these days is first the wedding day, then the honeymoon, and then any amount of visiting—dinner parties and supper parties without limit. Old-fashioned individuals may disapprove of this, and say that it would be better for the newly-wedded to settle down quietly, look at life from a serious standpoint, read improving books aloud to each other in the evenings, and save up every available halfpenny for a future rainy day. Without doubt, the old-fashioned individuals are right; but, unfortunately, few young married people see as they do. Experience is the great teacher, and its lessons can never be learnt by proxy. These young people have not yet been to that school. They have their charming home, their many friends, their limited income, and their pretty table appliances; and the question has now arisen—How shall they entertain their friends? They plume themselves on being prudent; they have no wish to run into extravagance, and they have no thought of entertaining everyone whom they know; but they are hospitably inclined, and they have deliberately arrived at the conclusion that there are one or two special friends whom they must invite, and whom they must make a little fuss over. The result of it all has been the bride’s first dinner party.
When first the subject of an entertainment was mooted, the young bride, whom we will call Mabel, was much exercised as to whether it would be wiser to have high tea or dinner. There was much to be said in favour of both. With high tea it was possible to have everything cold, and put on the table all at once, and this would enable the mistress to see the table laid, and be sure that everything was right before the guests arrived, a consideration not to be disregarded where there was only one little maid, and that one only eighteen, though clever for her age. The bride thought of the anxiety which she would have to go through if there were to be an awful pause between the courses, and then Emma were to come to her side and say, “Please, mum, the pudding won’t turn out!” What should she do? Then too, high tea was quieter, and less pretentious, and the young housekeeper had no desire to make a display beyond her means. On the other hand, dinner would be pleasanter; and, best of all, it would furnish an occasion for bringing out all the pretty presents, the bright silver, the exquisite glass, the artistic table ornaments, the elegant dinner and dessert services. Where was the good of being possessed of all these treasures if they were always to be kept locked up in a cupboard? With these presents a dinner-table could be laid out so effectively that the food would be quite a minor detail. Besides, “the master” preferred dinner. In his bachelor days he had been accustomed to dine on leaving business, and had learnt to regard high tea as a nondescript sort of meal, only to be accepted as a painful discipline when it could not well be avoided. Of course, the master’s likes and dislikes counted for a good deal with the mistress, and dinner was almost decided upon. But then came the question, “Which meal would be the more expensive of the two?” Expense was the chief consideration after all. Everything had to be paid for with ready money, and a committee of two of ways and means had decided that a sovereign must cover all expenses apart from beverages. There were to be six guests, eight in all with master and mistress; could the thing be done for £1 sterling? The young lady was doubtful.
At this stage of the cogitation, a double knock was heard, and in a minute or two the maid, young but clever for her age, came up and announced that Mrs. Jones had called to see Mrs. Smith. Amy Jones! exactly the person to consult. Amy was an old school-mate of the bride’s, had been married a couple of years ago, enjoyed almost the same yearly income, and deserved the reputation of having arrived at Dora Greenwell’s idea of perfection; that is, she had, up to this point, not merely made both ends meet, but made them tie over in a handsome bow. Yet she had been hospitable, too. A person of such abundant experience would be sure to know what was best.
“Amy, if you were in my place, which should you decide upon, a high tea or a small dinner?”
“You have begun to consider the claims of hospitality, have you, Mabel! What is your maid like?”
“She is a very good little girl, and she does her best, but she is very slow. If all goes on quietly, she manages excellently, but if she were to be flurried, I do not know what would happen.”