riends, and it must not be chill and
uninviting, whatever else it may be. It should not be littered up with
personal things--magazines, books and work-baskets and objects that
belong in the living-room--but it welcomes flowers and _objets d'art_,
collections of fans, or miniatures, or graceful mirrors, or old French
prints, or enamels, or porcelains. It should be a place where people may
converse without interruption from the children.

Most houses, even of the smaller sort, have three day rooms--the
dining-room, the parlor and the sitting-room, as they are usually
called. People who appreciate more and more the joy of living have
pulled hall and sitting-room together into one great family meeting
place, leaving a small vestibule, decreased the size of the dining-room
and built in many windows, so that it becomes almost an outdoor room,
and given the parlor a little more dignity and serenity and its right
name--the drawing-room.

We use the terms drawing-room and _salon_ interchangeably in
America--though we are a bit more timid of the _salon_--but there is a
subtle difference between the two that is worth noting. The withdrawing
room of old England was the quiet room to which the ladies retired,
leaving their lords to the freer pleasures of the great hall. Indeed,
the room began as a part of my lady's bedroom, but gradually came into
its proper importance and took on a magnificence all its own. The
_salon_ of France also began as a part of the great hall, or _grande
salle_. Then came the need for an apartment for receiving and so the
great bed chamber was divided into two parts, one a real sleeping-room
and the other a _chambre de parade,_ with a great state bed for the
occasional visitors of great position. The great bed, or _lit de
parade_, was representative of all the salons of the time of Louis XIII.
Gradually the owners of the more magnificent houses saw the opportunity
for a series of salons, and so the state apartment was divided into two
parts: a _salon de famille_, which afforded the family a certain
privacy, and the _salon de compagnie_, which was sacred to a
magnificent hospitality. And so the salon expanded until nowadays we use
the word with awe, and appreciate its implication of brilliant
conversation and exquisite decoration, of a radiant hostess, an amusing
and distinguished circle of people. The word has a graciousness, a
challenge that we fear. If we have not just the right house we should
not dare