Perfect Behavior: A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in All Social Crises

In the first place, a guest is supposed tacitly to consent to the menu which the hostess has arranged, and the diner-out who makes a habit of saying “Squab, you know, never agrees with me— I wonder if I might have a couple of poached eggs,” is apt to find that such squeamishness does not pay in the long run. Practical jokes are never countenanced at a formal affair of this sort. I do not mean that a certain amount of good-natured fun is out of place, but such “stunts” as pulling the hostess’ chair out from under her— or gleefully kicking the shins of your neighbor under the table and shouting “Guess who?”— are decidedly among the “non-ests” of correct modern dinner-table behaviour. Then, too, it is now distinctly bad form to practise legerdemain or feats of sleight-of-hand at a dinner party. Time was when it was considered correct for a young man who could do card or other tricks to add to the gayety of the party by displaying his skill, but that time is past, and the guest of today, who thinks to make a “hit” by pulling a live rabbit or a potted plant from the back of the mystified hostess or one of the butlers, is in reality only making a “fool” of himself if he only knew it. The same “taboo” also holds good as concerns feats of juggling and no hostess of today will, I am sure, ever issue a second invitation to a young man who has attempted to enliven her evening by balancing, on his nose, a knife, a radish, a plate of soup and a lighted candle. “Cleverness” is a valuable asset but only up to a certain point, and I know of one unfortunately “clever” young chap who almost completely ruined a promising social career by the unexpected failure of one of his pet juggling tricks and the consequent dumping of a large dish of mashed potatoes on the head of a vice-president of the Equitable Trust Company. Besides, people almost always distrust “clever” persons.