Perfect Behavior Part 6

After you have removed your coat, you should go to the ball room where you will find the dance in full swing--full being of course used in its common or alcoholic sense. Take your place in the stag line and don't, under any circ.u.mstances, allow anyone to induce you to cut in on any of the dancers. In the first place, you won't be able to dance because Dry Agents, like Englishmen, never can; secondly, if you TRY to dance, you are taking the enormous chance, especially at a masquerade, that the man who introduced you to your partner will disappear for the rest of the evening, leaving you with Somebody's Albatross hanging around your neck. And, of all Albatrosses, the married one is perhaps farthest South--especially if she happens to be a little tight and wants to talk about her husband and children.

Your policy, therefore, should be one of complete non-partisanship. If you do not dance, do not let yourself be drawn into conversation, and do not, above all things, show any consideration for the host or hostess.

By closely observing the actions of the men and women about you, by wandering down into the club bar, by peeking into the automobiles parked outside the club, you will probably be able to obtain sufficient evidence of the presence of alcohol to justify a raid. And then, when you have raided the Glen Cove Country Club, you can turn your attention to the 12,635,439 other clubs and private houses where the same thing is going on. And, if Mr. Volstead has a dress suit, you might take him with you, and show him just how beautifully Prohibition is working and how enthusiastic the better cla.s.ses of American society are about it.

CHAPTER SIX: A CHAPTER FOR SCHOOLGIRLS

Every Fall a larger number of young girls leave home to come East to the various Finishing Schools in this section of the country. For the benefit of those who are making this trip for the first time, we outline a few of the more important points in connection with the preliminaries to the trip East, together with minute instructions as to the journey itself.

SELECTING A PROPER SCHOOL

This is, of course, mainly a parent's problem and is best solved by resorting to the following formula: Let A and B represent two young girls' finishing schools in the East. Mrs. Raleigh-Jones (X), from the West, sends her daughter to A; Mrs. Borax (Y), from the same city, sends her daughter to B. Upon consulting the local social register, it is found that Mr. Raleigh-Jones is a member of the Union, Colonial, Town and Country, and Valley Hunt Clubs; upon consulting the telephone directory it is found that the Boraxes live at 1217 S. Main Street, and that Mr. Borax is an undertaker. Shall Mrs. F. B. Gerald (Z) send her daughter Annette to A or to B, and why?

Answer: A, because life is real, life is earnest, and the grave is not its goal.

CORRECT EQUIPMENT FOR THE SCHOOLGIRL

Having selected an educational inst.i.tution, the next requisite is a suitable equipment. Girls who live in other parts of the United States are often surprised to discover that the clothes which they have purchased at the best store in their home town are totally unsuited for the rough climate of the East. I would, therefore, recommend the following list, subject, of course, to variation in individual cases.

1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for dancing.

1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for petting.

1 Dress, Swiss, Dotted, blue, or 1 Dress, Swiss, undotted, white.

15 yards Tulle, best quality, pink.

4 bottles perfume, domestic, or 1 bottle, perfume, French.

12 Dozen Dorine, men's pocket size.

6 Soles, cami, a.s.sorted.

1 Bra.s.siere, or riding habit.

100 boxes aspirin, for dances and house-parties.

1 wave, permanent, for conversation.

24 waves, temporary.

10,000 nets, hair.

100,000 pins, hair.

1 bottle Quelques Fleurs, for knockout.

EN ROUTE

After the purchase of a complete outfit, it will be necessary to say goodbye to one's local friends. Partings are always somewhat sad, but it will be found that much simple pleasure may be derived from the last nights with the various boys to whom one is engaged.

In this connection, however, it would be well to avoid making any rash statements regarding undying friendship and affection, because, when you next see Eddie or Walter, at Christmas time, you will have been three months in the East, while they have been at the State University, and really, after one starts dancing with Yale men--well, it's a funny world.

In case you do not happen to meet any friends on the train, the surest way to protect yourself from any unwelcome advances is to buy a copy of the Atlantic Monthly and carry it, in plain view. Next to a hare lip, this is the safest protection for a travelling young girl that I know of; it has, however, the one objection that all the old ladies on the train are likely to tell you what they think of Katherine Fullerton Gerould, or their rheumatism.

If you are compelled to go to the dining car alone, you will probably sit beside an Elk with white socks, who will call the waiter "George."

Along about the second course he will say to you, "It's warm for September, isn't it?" to which you should answer "No." That will dispose of the Elk.

Across the table from you will be a Grand Army man and his wife, going to visit their boy Elmer's wife's folks in Schenectady. When the fish is served, the Grand Army man will choke on a bone. Let him choke, but do not be too hopeful, as the chances are that he will dislodge the bone.

All will go well until the dessert, when his wife will begin telling how raspberry sherbet always disagrees with her. Offer her your raspberry sherbet.

After dinner you may wish to read for a while, but the porter will probably have made up all the berths for the night. It will also be found that the light in your berth does not work, so you will be awake for a long time; finally, just as you are leaving Buffalo, you will at last get to sleep, and when you open your eyes again, you will be--in Buffalo.

There will be two more awakenings that night--once at Batavia, where a merry wedding party with horns and cow bells will follow the lucky bride and groom into your car, and once at Schenectady, where the Pullman car shock-absorbing tests are held. The next morning, tired but unhappy, you will reach New York.

A JOURNEY AROUND NEW YORK

The Aquarium. Take Fifth Avenue Bus to Times Square. Transfer to 42nd Street Crosstown. Get off at 44th Street, and walk one block south to the Biltmore. The most interesting fish will be found underneath the hanging clock, near the telephone booths.

Grant's Tomb. Take Fifth Avenue bus, and a light lunch. Change at Washington Square to a blue serge or dotted Swiss. Ride to the end of the line, and walk three blocks east. Then return the same way you came, followed by three fast sets of tennis, a light supper and early to bed.

If you do not feel better in the morning, cut out milk, fresh fruit and uncooked foods for a while.

Metropolitan Museum of Art. Take Subway to Brooklyn. (Flatbush.) Then ask the subway guard where to go; he will tell you.

The Bronx. Take three oranges, a lemon, three of gin, to one of vermouth, with a dash of bitters. Serve cold.

The Ritz. Take taxicab and fifty dollars. If you have only fifty dollars the filet of sole Marguery is very good.

Brooklyn Bridge. Terrible. And their auction is worse.

When you have visited all these places, it will probably be time to take the train to your school.

THE FIRST DAYS IN THE NEW SCHOOL

The first week of school life is apt to be quite discouraging, and we can not too emphatically warn the young girl not to do anything rash under the influence of homesickness. It is in this initial period that many girls, feeling utterly alone and friendless, write those letters to boys back home which are later so difficult to pa.s.s off with a laugh.

It is during this first attack of homesickness also that many girls, in their loneliness, recklessly accept the friendship of other strange girls, only to find out later that their new acquaintance's mother was a Miss Gundlefinger of Council Bluffs, or that she lives on the south side of Chicago. We advise: Go slow at first.

BECOMING ACCLIMATIZED

In your first day at school you will be shown your room; in your room you will find a sad-eyed fat girl. You will be told that this will be your room mate for the year. You will find that you have drawn a blank, that she comes from Topeka, Kan., that her paw made his money in oil, and that she is religious. You will be nice to her for the first week, because you aren't taking any chances at the start; you will tolerate her for the rest of the year, because she will do your lessons for you every night.

Across the hall from you there will be two older girls who are back for their second year. One of them will remind you of the angel painted on the ceiling of the Victory Theatre back home, until she starts telling about her summer at Narragansett; from the other you will learn how to inhale.

A VISITOR FROM PRINCETON

About the middle of the first term your cousin Charley Waldron, that freshman at Princeton, will write and say that he would like to come up and see you. You go to Miss French and ask her if you can have your cousin visit you. She sniffs at the "cousin" and tell's you that she must have a letter from Charley's father, one from Charley's minister, one from the governor of your state, and one from some disinterested party certifying that Charley has never been in the penitentiary, has never committed arson, and is a legitimate child. After you have secured these letters, Miss French will tell you that Charley will be allowed to see you next Sat.u.r.day from four till five.

Charley will come and will be ushered into the reception room. While he is sitting there alone, the entire school will walk slowly, one by one, past the open door and look in at him. This will cause Charley to perspire freely and to wish to G.o.d he had worn his dark suit.

It is not at all likely that you will be allowed to go to New Haven during your first year, which is quite a pity, as this city, founded in 1638, is rich in historical interest. It was here, for example, in 1893, that Yale defeated Harvard at football, and the historic Pigskin which was used that day is still preserved intact. Many other quaint relics are to be seen in and around the city of elms, mementos of the past which bring to the younger generation a knowledge and respect for things gone. In the month of June, for example, there is really nothing which quite conjures up for the college youth of today a sense of the mutability and impermanence of this mortal life so much as the sight of a member of the cla.s.s of 1875 after three days' intensive drinking. Eheu fugaces!

{ill.u.s.tration caption = "Who shall write first?" is a question that has perplexed many a lady or gentleman who is anxious to do the correct thing under any circ.u.mstances. A lady who has left town may send a brief note or a "P. P. C." ("pour prendre conge," i.e., "to take leave") card to a gentleman who remains at home, if the gentleman is her husband and if she has left town with his business partner. Neither the note nor the card requires an acknowledgment, but many a husband takes pleasure in penning his congratulations to the lady, concluding with an expression of grat.i.tude to his friend.}