Whoever saw a pair of scarlet hands before them when they were alone?
Just call to mind the fact that there is no real reason why you should feel "all anyhow" because you are in a strange house among strangers, and try to be natural in manner and pleasant to everybody.
One thing very necessary to cultivate when on a visit is the habit of punctuality. In London, where people come long distances, with the chance of a "block," or finding the street up, or some other obstacle to progress, a liberal margin is allowed as to time, and dinner at a quarter to eight means eight. But in the country the hour named is the hour intended, and in some houses the striking of the gong and the appearance of the butler throwing open the doors for dinner are nearly simultaneous, while in others the guests have five minutes' grace after the gong sounds in which to get downstairs and into the drawing-room. In any case they should all have assembled before dinner is announced, for few things annoy the master of the house more than to see stragglers come in when the soup, and perhaps even the fish, has been already served.
The same rule applies to all arrangements which are not "movable feasts." Luncheon, for instance, is usually at a fixed hour, and so is breakfast in some houses, though not in all. If you are to ride or drive, or whatever it is, be ready to the minute, and do not give trouble by having to be sent for. To give no unnecessary trouble either to guests or servants is, indeed, a good motto to bear in mind, for nobody likes to be "put about," and a woman who gives a lot of trouble, whether from thoughtlessness or from an idea that by requiring a great deal of attention and waiting upon she makes herself interesting and of more importance, will find out her mistake sooner or later, and learn that fetching cushions and smelling-bottles is not an amusing occupation for her friends, and that ringing the bell without good reason only sends servants, especially other people's servants, into a bad temper.
When you come down to breakfast you need not go round and shake hands with everybody. Speak to the lady of the house and anybody you know close by, and a few little bows and smiles will do the rest. Be careful in going to or from the dining-room to wait your turn, and not walk out before those who ought to precede you. Sometimes when the same people are making a longish stay in the house, they draw lots to decide who shall go in with whom by way of variety instead of having always the same partner. Pieces of paper are numbered, two sets alike, and drawn just before dinner, the guests then pairing off according to their numbers, so that a woman or girl with no particular position may find herself in the place of honour at the table, but even so it would be extremely bad taste in her to leave the dining-room first.
When talking do not mention the name of the person you are addressing every time you speak. It has a tiresome effect upon the ear to hear perpetually "Yes, Mrs. ——" "No, Mr. ——" "Do you think so, Lady ——?" "How fine it is to-day, Mr. ——!"
No hard-and-fast rule can be laid down as to how often the name should be mentioned—for, of course, it must be sometimes—but a little careful attention to ordinary conversation will teach you more than any written remarks could, and your own instinct must guide you further in the avoidance of little faults of the kind.
A matter of importance when visiting is to try never to be in the way when you are not wanted, and never out of it when you are wanted. Do not, for example, sit down and make an unrequired third in a conversation carried on between two people who are evidently quite content with each other's society, for they will only wish you anywhere, and, unless you have the constitution of a rhinoceros, the freezing atmosphere will soon bring to your mind a certain proverb which says that "Two's company, but three's none."
Do not insist upon speaking of something which interests you specially when, perhaps, nobody else cares very much about it; and, more than all, do not talk about yourself, your likes and dislikes, your health, etc., etc. It may not be pleasant, but the fact remains that nineteen people out of twenty feel not the smallest interest in you or your concerns except in so far as the outcome is agreeable to them, and this not exactly from want of heart so much as from want of time to stop and consider you, when there are so many others near and dear to them to be thought of. At all events, so it is, and any person who hangs about a room when she might as well go out of it, or worries people by airing her own opinions when nobody wishes to hear them, is decidedly in the way, and neither more nor less than a bore. This rock, i.e., being de trop, may be called the Scylla, while another of quite a contrary kind may be styled the Charybdis in the sea of Society, and both must be steered clear of if the voyage is to be pleasant and successful. The former is the rock on which active and energetic people split, and the latter often makes shipwreck of the more meditative and indolent natures, inclined to let things slip by, unobservant of what is required of them, or, if aware of it, too fond of their own comfort and repose to respond. Judgment and tact are essential in order to avoid running against one or other of these rocks, and perhaps the best preventive of mistakes in the matter will be found in remembering to "do as you would be done by," because, keeping that in mind, you will have only to make a shrewd guess as to what others would like in the same circumstances. Now and then doubtless in carrying out this rule some self-denial is involved, as, for instance, when lawn-tennis, or croquet, or even a walk, is proposed, and you, caring little for physical exertion at any time, and very anxious, moreover, to finish a book you are deep in, feel for a moment disposed to be churlish and refuse to join. Well, then comes in the remembrance of what is due to others, and you put the best face you can on it, get your hat, and go. Or on a wet day somebody wants to play billiards, or battledore and shuttlecock, or something, and you would rather work at a drawing or run through a song or two in the little boudoir where you will disturb nobody, but you are wanted to help brighten up the dreary day, and your private inclinations have to be sacrificed to the good of others. Another thing—— But my paper is growing rather lengthy, and, lest I should be voted a bore and go to pieces on the rock Scylla, I think my remarks had better end here for to-day, the remainder of them, not many now, being laid by for another occasion.
(To be continued.)