a dress that properly fits her, and Delia, the
chambermaid (who was engaged with the understanding that she was to serve
in the dining-room when there was company), has not yet been at table, but
she is a very willing young person who will surely look well.

Nora, when you tell her who are coming, eagerly suggests the sort of menu
that would appear on the table of the Worldlys or the Gildings. You are
thrilled at the thought of your own kitchen producing the same. That it
may be the same in name only, does not occur to you. You order flowers for
the table, and candy for your four compotiers. You pick out your best
tablecloth, but you find rather to your amazement that when the waitress
asks you about setting the table, you have never noticed in detail how the
places are laid. Knives and spoons go on the right of the plate, of
course, and forks on the left, but which goes next to the plate, or
whether the wine glasses should stand nearer or beyond the goblet you can
only guess. It is quite simple, however, to give directions in serving;
you just tell the chambermaid that she is to follow the waitress, and pass
the sauces and the vegetables. And you have already explained carefully to
the latter that she must not deal plates around the table like a pack of
cards, or ever take them off in piles either. (_That_ much at least you do
know.) You also make it a point above everything that the silver must be
very clean; Sigrid seems to understand, and with the optimism of youth,
you approach the dinner hour without misgiving. The table, set with your
wedding silver and glass, looks quite nice. You are a little worried about
the silver--it does look rather yellow, but perhaps it is just a shadow.
Then you notice there are a great many forks on the table! You ask your
husband what is the matter with the forks? He does not see anything wrong.
You need them all for the dinner you ordered, how can there be less? So
you straighten a candlestick that was out of line, and put the place cards
on.

Then you go into the drawing-room. You don't light the fire until the last
moment, because you want it to be burning brightly when your guests
arrive. Your drawing-room looks a little stiff somehow, but an open fire
more than anything else makes a room inviting, and you light it just as
your first guest rings the bell. As Mr. Clubwin Doe enters, the room looks
charming, then suddenly the fire smokes, and in the midst of the smoke
your other gu