hen your
host invites you to dine at a given hour, you pay him the compliment of
arriving punctually at his house. In England alone, the incomprehensible
and discourteous custom prevails of keeping the host and the dinner
waiting for half an hour or more--without any assignable reason and
without any better excuse than the purely formal apology that is implied
in the words, "Sorry to be late."

Arriving at the appointed time at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Germaine, we
had every reason to congratulate ourselves on the ignorant punctuality
which had brought us into the drawing-room half an hour in advance of
the other guests.

In the first place, there was so much heartiness, and so little
ceremony, in the welcome accorded to us, that we almost fancied
ourselves back in our own country. In the second place, both husband and
wife interested us the moment we set eyes on them. The lady, especially,
although she was not, strictly speaking, a beautiful woman, quite
fascinated us. There was an artless charm in her face and manner, a
simple grace in all her movements, a low, delicious melody in her voice,
which we Americans felt to be simply irresistible. And then, it was so
plain (and so pleasant) to see that here at least was a happy marriage!
Here were two people who had all their dearest hopes, wishes, and
sympathies in common--who looked, if I may risk the expression, born to
be man and wife. By the time when the fashionable delay of the half
hour had expired, we were talking together as familiarly and as
confidentially as if we had been all four of us old friends.

Eight o'clock struck, and the first of the English guests appeared.

Having forgotten this gentleman's name, I must beg leave to distinguish
him by means of a letter of the alphabet. Let me call him Mr. A. When
he entered the room alone, our host and hostess both started, and both
looked surprised. Apparently they expected him to be accompanied by some
other person. Mr. Germaine put a curious question to his friend.

"Where is your wife?" he asked.

Mr. A answered for the absent lady by a neat little apology, expressed
in these words:

"She has got a bad cold. She is very sorry. She begs me to make her
excuses."

He had just time to deliver his message, before another unaccompanied
gentleman appeared. Reverting to the letters of the alphabet, let me
call him Mr. B. Once more, I noticed that our host and hostess started
when they saw him enter the room al