THE TRAMMELS OF SOCIETY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1106, 12 May 1893, Page 16

THE TRAMMELS OF SOCIETY.

Mrs. Brown-Jones, a society leader. Mr. Jones, her husband. Mrs. Brown-Jones—Will you give me your undivided attention, please.? Mr. Jones (gallantly)—Any mathematical process that might affect my attention when you are speaking, my dear, would be only multiplication. Mrs. Brown-Jones—Please don't be silly. It's a question of society. Mr. Jones—What is—silliness?

Mrs. Brown-Jones—No, no. Here we have an invitation from the Batckby-Pokedyes, and one from the Hicks-Parkers, both for dinner.

Mr. Jones—Are we going to have the invitations for dinner?

Mrs. Brown-Jones (ignoring the remark) —Now, I don't know which to accept. Mr. Jones—So thoughtful in you to ask me. I say neither.

Mrs. Brown-^ones— But we must go. Mr. Jones—A dictum of society, hal Then accept both. Mrs. Brown-Jones (wearily)—How can we when they're both for Wednesday night? Mr.' Jones (triumphantly)—Why, you go to one, and I'll go to the other. Mrs. Brown-Jones—lmpossible! Mr. Jones (calmly)—Not at all. We can demonstrate Mrs. Brown-Jones—We can demonstrate nothing. Society is not given to demonstrations. What I want to ask you is, which shall we accept? Mr. Jones —Toss up a penny—heads, the What-you-call-'em's; tails, the Hickses.

Mrs. Brown-Jones—The Hicks-Parkers—-the legislature gave them the right to use the hyphen. Mr. Jones—" Very kind in the legislature, I must say. What did it cqst? Mrs. Brown-Jones—Society accepts, hut never questions. Now

Mr. Jones—Another dictum. I should advise, then, that we accept, as suggested before. And as there are no questions asked, we can stay at home. Mrs. Brown-Jones (severely)—You would try a saint. Mr. Jones—Never, my dear, never. They wouldn't accept me on the jury if a saint was to be tried.

Mrs. Brown-Jones (sadly)—Have you no answer?

Mr. Jones—Certainly. Which of the two will give a better dinner? By the way, is the'hyphen in the What-you-call-'em's legally sanctioned? We'd better dine with the others, so as to be on the safe side.

Mrs. Brown-Jones (ignoring the latter part of the remark)—We do not accept invitations with a view to Mr. Jones —Gastronomic attractions? Mrs. Brown-Jones—With a view to the cuisine.

Mr. Jones—What then? Family? Wealth? Mrs. Brown-Jones—-We consider society. Mr. Jones—But society doesn't consider, my love. It's a flock of gee—sheep. Mr 3. Brown-Jones (reflectively)—l think we'd meet more people at the BatchbyPokedyes. , Mr. Jones—Then there might he less to eat. Let's go to the others.

Mrs. Brown-Jones—But we are more indebted to the Hicks-Parkers.

Mr. Jones—ln what way, my love? I've never borrowed a dollar from them.

Mrs. Brown-Jones (tearfully)—Why do you act so foolish? Mr. Jones (gravely)—Let me see the invitations. [Reads them and smiles.] Why, my charming wife, do you consult me? [Actually grins.] One is for Wednesday, the 14th, and the other for Wednesday, the 21st. •.:>

Mrs. Brown-Jones (penitently)—Don't you see how easy it is for you to answer—if you try?—Harper's Bazar.

The Degree of A. M. Detroit has an industrious young man Whose friends guy him somewhat on his habit of early rising. Not long ago his alma mater made him a master of arts. "By the way," remarked a young woman to his roommate, "Bmnderstand Henry's college has conferred the degree of A. M. on him." ' - "Yes." "What was it for, do yoti suppose?" "I don't know exactly, unless it was .hO" cause he gets up so early in the morning:" •-Detroit JVee Press. _

Denslow has invited a party of friends to a home poker symposium, and Mrs. Denslow brings in the luncheon just as Denslow gets his first hand in two hours: "Why, Tommy! Isn't it rather unusual to have every card in your hand clubs?"—S. & G.'s Monthly. A Pastel. ; ' . First Boy—Where ye goin? Second Boy—Down to th' store. ■ .." ! "What for?" "' ,' "I forget. Where you goin?" ' !■ j "To th' store." "What for?" . ] "I forget." "Well, let's go together."—Good News.

SHE BEGAN EARLY. With the Result That Both She and Georgie Learned a Lesson. He wanted* a cup of coffee and had just five minutes in which to get it. It was evident at first glance that they had not been married long. She, with her sweet, babyish face, looked not a day over 18, and he was a manly looking fellow about 24. They were on the sleeping car of a through train, and she nestled close to his side with a peaceful "in-thee-I-trust" expression on her face. ' 'Five minutes for refreshment!" called the porter, and he arose and reached for his hat.

"Oh, Georgie, you might get leftl" she began, holding to his sleeve. "Nonsense, darling," he said, trying gently to disengage himself. "The train stops here five minutes." "But, oh, if you should get left, what would I do?"

"But I shall not get left. I only want a cup of coffee and will bring you some fruit," he said, still making dives at his hat with his disengaged arm. "But you might! Oh, George, please don't risk it"

That settled it. He resumed his seat, and for a moment his features were a study.

Then she seemed to relent,

"Well, if you'll hurry, Georgie," she said, smiling through moist lashes. "Of course I don't want to deprive you of the coffee if you really want it, darling" ■ He got up again, snatched his hat and made his way to the door, she calling after him, "Be sure and bring me some grapes—and don't get left!" ,

Just as he reached the door the conductor called "All aboard!" He sauntered back, hung up his hat and resumed his seat. Then there was -silence, profound and unbroken, in that section for about seven minutes.

She was the first to speak. "You were so poky, dear!" she pouted. "If you had hurried, you might have had your coffee. And I did want some grapes I" she added, with an extra sigh. He sighed, too, and smiled sadly. "But I'll forgive you this time, darling!" she went on generously. "I guess I can do without the grapes till we get to Washington." And she cuddled up against his shoulder again.—Exchange. Homelike. Some years ago, writes a Bazar correspondent, I was traveling through Georgia, when the train upon which I was a passenger was detained by a freight wreck ahead. Ido not not now remember the name of the village at which wo stopped, and I cannot say that I am particularly desirous of recalling it. It was, I remember, a collection of frame cottages and one large brick structure, which was at once hotel, postoffice, bar, billiard room and general store. The lower floor was occupied by the various interests indicated. We had become thoroughly weary of our situation long before the sound of a cracked bell conveyed the welcome intelligence that the hour for the noonday meal had arrived. The passengers filed into a long and entirely bare dining roon£ furnished only with a long pine table and board bottomed chairs. We took our seats upon the hard chairs and cast our eyes over the table. The glass, and chinaware were an inch thick; an array of sour "pone" cornbread, buttermilk and other things constituted the bill of fare, with a few plates of stringy stewed beef cut in "hunks." Just then the engineer of the train entered with a quick, nervous step, bustled up to the table accoutered as he was in his greasy overalls, rubbed his hands, and as he pulled out his chair cried, in a cheery voice: "Ah, this does remind me of home. Not a dam thing on the table fit to eat!"— Harper's Bazar.