The Bossier banner., 1894-12-20
AQUESTION IN ETIQUETTE
BY RICHARD HAMILTON POTTS.

Rows of MISUNDERSTANDING houses
to the right of me, park to the left
of me; lunch-party four long blocks
ahead of me, my home, in the far dis
tance, behind me; a cloudy sky, from
which descends a fine, but steady
sprinkle, above mel wish | could
add, and an UMBRELLA damp, and
rapidly growing sloppy pavement be-
meath me; no possible car or omnibus,
no cab-stand. On, for a plebeian
street, with its multitude of conven-
fences! But my mind refuses to grasp
the bliss therein conveyed. 1t flies,
instead, to the feathers on my hat, the
velvet on my gown.
had left my home rather hurriedly,
and, deceived by a hypocritical little
ray of sunshine, had been lured forth
to find myself in this plight. Of course
could mount the steps OF one of the
irreproachable houses that line my
path; but there l should be tied. and
s the rain would only increase, and |
should late for the luncheon. No, it
is impossible.
quicken my steps. l have pro-
ceeded to the crossing; the drizzle is
maturing into well-defned drops that
come faster and faster. Despair has
me in his fell grasp. see my pet cos
tune bedraggled and ruined wreck.
] reflect on the state of my finances,
which precludes the possibility of my
rising above cashmere nay, even
serge-again this winter. l give my
skirts vigorous hitch that would lead
one to forget my ankles and reflect on
my knees, and make forward lunge
more remarkable for its desperate en-
ergy than its grace. ~ f+a
''Er-pardon me-" says manly
voice, a tritie hesitatingly, at my ell
bow.
| start violently and my skirts seek
their proper level. A large umbrella
is sheltering me; the rain no longer
patters among the feathers that crown
my head.
ALLOW me to share my umbrella
with you | see that you are without
one," adds the manly voice.
"Oh, thank you," say, as recover
somewhat, and gather, from the own
er's general appearance, that he is a
gentleman and, in all probability,
means his protection in kindness and
not as means to getting up a flirta-
ton. Perhaps | ought to refuse his
aid, politely and graciously, of course,
with the simple remark that l have
not far to go and so shall not require
his assistance. Maybe l should draw
myself up, in the approved insulted
maidenhood style, and say:
Sir! | thank you, but | can get
along very well by myself"
If he looked trife less respectful
and gentlemanly think | would sac
ritice Nine. Boland's latest and as
yet unpaid for, effort in my behalf;
but | am sure he is not going to say
anything the most prudish could OBJ
Ject to- At any rate my situation, un-
til now, has been really pathetic; SO /
shall try obeying my own instinct,
and if have cause to regret it | shall
know better in future, and the expert
ence will not hurt me.
We have traversed block in silence.
He walks by my side, perfectly grave
and quiet, and only seems to glance in
my direction to see that | am we'll
protected. | am thankful that / took
his offer the way it was meant, and
did not give him reason to regret his
generous impulse. On we pace, and
there enters my mind the quotation:
Thou art so near and yet so far
But seriously, he certainly is very
nice not to try to get up converse
tion which woulf only make me thor
oughly stiff and uncomfortable. l can
just hear an ordinary man beginning:
Its a damp day." or, Pretty wet,
isn't it?" or Have you far to go,
miss?" or addressing some equally
commonplace sentence to me.
1t seems strange, though, to walk
along SO close to anyone and not utter
word. l wonder if ought to speak;
but no, he appreciates my position.
What could l say, anyway? | will
thank him when we separate, and
that is all | can do. | may not be
gracious enough, considering his po-
hteness, but how can one be gracious
10 stranger? Oh, for surreptitioua
peep at book on etiquettei