to the hosts,
who regard the whole business as a mere paying off of debts; and an
effort to the guests, who, as they go to dress, recall grisly memories
of former similar experiences. It often astonishes me that dinner-giving
of this character should still flourish."

"The explanation is easy," said Van der Roet; "it flourishes because it
gives a mark of distinction. It is a delicious moment for Mrs. Johnson
when she is able to say to Mrs. Thompson, 'My dear, I am quite worn-out;
we dined out every day last week, and have four more dinners in the next
five days.' These good people show their British grit by the persistency
with which they go on with their penitential hospitality, and their lack
of ideas in never attempting to modify it so as to make it a pleasure
instead of a disagreeable duty."

"It won't do to generalise too widely, Van der Roet," said Sir John.
"Some of these good people surely enjoy their party-giving; and, from my
own experience of one or two houses of this sort, I can assure you the
food is quite respectable. The great imperfection seems to lie in the
utter want of consideration in the choice of guests. A certain number
of people and a certain quantity of food shot into a room, that is their
notion of a dinner-party."

"Of course we understand that the success of a dinner depends much more
on the character of the guests than on the character of the food," said
Mrs. Sinclair; "and most of us, I take it, are able to fill our tables
with pleasant friends; but what of the dull people who know none but
dull people? What gain will they get by taking counsel how they shall
fill their tables?"

"More, perhaps, than you think, dear Mrs. Sinclair," said Sir John.
"Dull people often enjoy themselves immensely when they meet dull people
only. The frost comes when the host unwisely mixes in one or two
guests of another sort--people who give themselves airs of finding more
pleasure in reading Stevenson than the sixpenny magazines, and who don't
know where Hurlingham is. Then the sheep begin to segregate themselves
from the goats, and the feast is manque."

"Considering what a trouble and anxiety a dinner-party must be to the
hostess, even under the most favouring conditions, I am always at a
loss to discover why so many women take so much pains, and spend a
considerable sum of money as well, over details which are unessential,
or even noxious," said Mrs. Wilding. "A few flowers on the table are all
very w