selected from among many others, just because it seemed to you the prettiest.  Even your mother and married sister who, “en grande tenue,” have always seemed to you dazzling figures, have for the moment become, for all their brocades and jewels, merely background; and you alone are the center of the picture.  Up the wide staircase come throngs of fashionables—­who mean “the world.”  They are coming on purpose to bow to you!  You can’t help feeling that the glittering dresses, the tiaras, the ropes of pearls and chains of diamonds of the “dowagers,” the stiff white shirt-fronts and boutonnieres and perfectly fitting coats of the older gentlemen, as well as the best clothes of all the younger people, were all put on for you.

You shake hands and smile sweetly to a number of older ladies and shake hands with an equal number of gentlemen, all very politely and properly.  Then suddenly, half way up the stairs you see Betty and Anne and Fred and Ollie.  Of course your attention is drawn to them.  You are vaguely conscious that the butler is shouting some stupid name you never heard of—­that you don’t care in the least about.  Your mother’s voice is saying “Mrs. zzzzzz——­,”

Impatiently you give your hand to someone—­you haven’t the slightest idea who it is.  So far as your interest is concerned, you might as well be brushing away annoying flies.  Your smiles are directed to Betty and Anne.  As they reach the top of the stairs you dart forward and enter into an excited conversation, deliberately overlooking a lady and gentleman who, without trying further to attract your attention, pass on.  Later in the winter you will perhaps wonder why you alone among your friends are never asked to Great Estates.  The lady and gentleman of whom you are so rudely unaware, happen to be Mr. and Mrs. Worldly, and you have entirely forgotten that you are a hostess, and furthermore that you have the whole evening, beginning at supper, when you can talk to these friends of yours!  You can dance with Fred and Ollie and Jimmy all the rest of the evening; you can spend most of your time with them for the rest of your life if you and they choose.  But when you are out in public, above all at a party which is for you, your duty in commonest civility is to overcome your impulses, and behave as a grown-up person—­and a well-bred grown-up person at that!

It takes scarcely more than ten seconds to listen to the name that is said to you, to look directly and attentively at the one to whom the name belongs, to put out your hand firmly as you would take hold of something you like, (not something that you feel an aversion to), and with a smile say “How do you do.”  At your ball your mother says “Mrs. Worldly, my daughter.”  You look directly at Mrs. Worldly, put out your hand, say “How do you do, Mrs. Worldly.”  And she passes on.  It takes no longer to be cordial and attentive than to be distrait and casual and rude, yet the impression made in a few seconds of actual time may easily gain or lose a friend for life.  When no other guests are arriving, you can chatter to your own friends as much as you like, but as you turn to greet another stranger, you must show pleasure, not annoyance, in giving him your attention.