often.

A young man is, of course, much freer, but a similar deference to the
plans of his hostess, and to the hours and customs of the house, will
result in repeated invitations for him also.

The lack of these things is not only bad form but want of common civility
and decency, and reflects not only on the girls and boys themselves but on
their parents who failed to bring them up properly.

=THE CONSIDERATE GUEST=

Courtesy demands that you, when you are a guest, shall show neither
annoyance nor disappointment--no matter what happens. Before you can hope
to become even a passable guest, let alone a perfect one, you must learn
as it were not to notice if hot soup is poured down your back. If you
neither understand nor care for dogs or children, and both insist on
climbing all over you, you must seemingly like it; just as you must be
amiable and polite to your fellow guests, even though they be of all the
people on earth the most detestable to you. You must with the very best
dissimulation at your command, appear to find the food delicious though
they offer you all of the viands that are especially distasteful to your
palate, or antagonistic to your digestion. You must disguise your hatred
of red ants and scrambled food, if everyone else is bent on a picnic. You
must pretend that six is a perfect dinner hour though you never dine
before eight, or, on the contrary, you must wait until eight-thirty or
nine with stoical fortitude, though your dinner hour is six and by seven
your chest seems securely pinned to your spine.

If you go for a drive, and it pours, and there is no top to the carriage
or car, and you are soaked to the skin and chilled to the marrow so that
your teeth chatter, your lips must smile and you must appear to enjoy the
refreshing coolness.

If you go to stay in a small house in the country, and they give you a bed
full of lumps, in a room of mosquitoes and flies, in a chamber over that
of a crying baby, under the eaves with a temperature of over a hundred,
you _can_ the next morning walk to the village, and send yourself a
telegram and leave! But though you feel starved, exhausted, wilted, and
are mosquito bitten until you resemble a well-developed case of chickenpox
or measles, by not so much as a facial muscle must you let the family know
that your comfort lacked anything that your happiest imagination could
picture--nor must you confide in any one afterwards (having broken bread
in the house)