Other announcements are “The Chief Justice and Mrs. Taft,” “The Secretary of State and Mrs. Hughes.”  “Senator and Mrs. Washington,” but in this case the latter enters the room first, because his office is not executive.

According to diplomatic etiquette an Ambassador and his wife should be announced, “Their Excellencies the Ambassador and Ambassadress of Great Britain.”  The Ambassador enters the room first.  A Minister Plenipotentiary is announced “The Minister of Sweden.”  He enters a moment later and “Mrs. Ogren” follows.  But a First Secretary and his wife are announced, if they have a title of their own, “Count and Countess European,” or “Mr. and Mrs. American.”

The President, the Vice-President, the Governor of a State, the Mayor of a city, the Ambassador of a foreign Power—­in other words, all executives—­take precedence over their wives and enter rooms and vehicles first.  But Senators, Representatives, Secretaries of legations and all other officials who are not executive, allow their wives to precede them, just as they would if they were private individuals.

Foreigners who have hereditary titles are announced by them:  “The Duke and Duchess of Overthere.”  “The Marquis and Marchioness of Landsend,” or “Sir Edward and Lady Blank,” etc.  Titles are invariably translated into English, “Count and Countess Lorraine,” not “M. le Comte et Mme. la Comtesse Lorraine.”

=HOW A HOSTESS RECEIVES AT A FORMAL DINNER=

On all occasions of formality, at a dinner as well as at a ball, the hostess stands near the door of her drawing-room, and as guests are announced, she greets them with a smile and a handshake and says something pleasant to each.  What she says is nothing very important, charm of expression and of manner can often wordlessly express a far more gracious welcome than the most elaborate phrases (which as a matter of fact should be studiously avoided).  Unless a woman’s loveliness springs from generosity of heart and sympathy, her manners, no matter how perfectly practised, are nothing but cosmetics applied to hide a want of inner beauty; precisely as rouge and powder are applied in the hope of hiding the lack of a beautiful skin.  One device is about as successful as the other; quite pleasing unless brought into comparison with the real.

Mrs. Oldname, for instance, usually welcomes you with some such sentences as, “I am very glad to see you” or “I am so glad you could come!” Or if it is raining, she very likely tells you that you were very unselfish to come out in the storm.  But no matter what she says or whether anything at all, she takes your hand with a firm pressure and her smile is really a smile of welcome, not a mechanical exercise of the facial muscles.  She gives you always—­even if only for the moment—­her complete attention; and you go into her drawing-room with a distinct feeling that you are under the roof, not of a mere acquaintance, but of a friend.  Mr. Oldname who stands never very far from his wife, always comes forward and, grasping your hand, accentuates his wife’s more subtle but no less vivid welcome.  And either you join a friend standing near, or he presents you, if you are a man, to a lady; or if you are a lady, he presents a man to you.