Etiquette Part 12

It is perfectly correct for a gentleman to talk to any other who happens to be sitting near him, whether he knows him or not. The host on occasions--but it is rarely necessary--starts the conversation if most of the guests are inclined to keep silent, by drawing this one or that into discussion of a general topic that everyone is likely to take part in. At the end of twenty minutes or so, he must take the opportunity of the first lull in the conversation to suggest that they join the ladies in the drawing-room.

In a house where there is no smoking-room, the gentlemen do not conduct the ladies to the drawing-room, but stay where they are (the ladies leaving alone) and have their coffee, cigars, liqueurs and conversation sitting around the table.

In the drawing-room, meanwhile, the ladies are having coffee, cigarettes, and liqueurs pa.s.sed to them. There is not a modern New York hostess, scarcely even an old-fas.h.i.+oned one, who does not have cigarettes pa.s.sed after dinner.

At a dinner of ten or twelve, the five or six ladies are apt to sit in one group, or possibly two sit by themselves, and three of four together, but at a very large dinner they inevitably fall into groups of four or five or so each. In any case, the hostess must see that no one is left to sit alone. If one of her guests is a stranger to the others, the hostess draws a chair near one of the groups and offering it to her single guest sits beside her. After a while when this particular guest has at least joined the outskirts of the conversation of the group, the hostess leaves her and joins another group where perhaps she sits beside some one else who has been somewhat left out. When there is no one who needs any especial attention, the hostess nevertheless sits for a time with each of the different groups in order to spend at least a part of the evening with all of her guests.

!WHEN THE GENTLEMEN RETURN TO THE DRAWING-ROOM!

When the gentlemen return to the drawing-room, if there is a particular lady that one of them wants to talk to, he naturally goes directly to where she is, and sits down beside her. If, however, she is securely wedged in between two other ladies, he must ask her to join him elsewhere. Supposing Mr. Jones, for instance, wants to talk to Mrs. Bobo Gilding, who is sitting between Mrs. Stranger and Miss Stiffleigh: Mr. Jones saunters up to Mrs. Gilding--he must not look too eager or seem too directly to prefer her to the two who are flanking her position, so he says rather casually, "Will you come and talk to me?" Whereupon she leaves her sandwiched position and goes over to another part of the room, and sits down where there is a vacant seat beside her. Usually, however, the ladies on the ends, being accessible, are more apt to be joined by the first gentleman entering than is the one in the center, whom it is impossible to reach. Etiquette has always decreed that gentlemen should not continue to talk together after leaving the smoking-room, as it is not courteous to those of the ladies who are necessarily left without partners.

At informal dinners, and even at many formal ones, bridge tables are set up in an adjoining room, if not in the drawing-room. Those few who do not play bridge spend a half hour (or less) in conversation and then go home, unless there is some special diversion.

!MUSIC OR OTHER ENTERTAINMENT AFTER DINNER!

Very large dinners of fifty or over are almost invariably followed by some sort of entertainment. Either the dinner is given before a ball or a musicale or amateur theatricals, or professionals are brought in to dance or sing.

In this day when conversation is not so much a "lost" as a "wilfully abandoned" art, people in numbers can not be left to spend an evening on nothing but conversation. Grouped together by the hundred and with bridge tables absent, the modern fas.h.i.+onables in America, and in England, too, are as helpless as children at a party without something for them to do, listen to, or look at!

!VERY BIG DINNERS!

A dinner of sixty, for instance, is always served at separate tables; a center one of twenty people, and four corner tables of ten each. Or if less, a center table of twelve and four smaller tables of eight. A dinner of thirty-six or less is seated at a single table.

But whether there are eighteen, eighty, or one or two hundred, the setting of each individual table and the service is precisely the same. Each one is set with centerpiece, candles, compotiers, and evenly s.p.a.ced plates, with the addition of a number by which to identify it; or else each table is decorated with different colored flowers, pink, yellow, orchid, white. Whatever the manner of identification, the number or the color is written in the corner of the ladies' name cards that go in the envelopes handed to each arriving gentleman at the door: "pink," "yellow," "orchid," "white," or "center table."

In arranging for the service of dinner the butler details three footmen, usually, to each table of ten, and six footmen to the center table of twenty. There are several houses (palaces really) in New York that have dining-rooms big enough to seat a hundred or more easily. But sixty is a very big dinner, and even thirty does not "go" well without an entertainment following it.

Otherwise the details are the same in every particular as well as in table setting: the hostess receives at the door; guests stand until dinner is announced; the host leads the way with the guest of honor. The hostess goes to table last. The host and hostess always sit at the big center table and the others at that table are invariably the oldest present. No one resents being grouped according to "age," but many do resent a segregation of ultra fas.h.i.+onables. You must never put all the prominent ones at one table, unless you want forever to lose the acquaintance of those at every other.

After dinner, the gentlemen go to the smoking-room and the ladies sit in the ballroom, where, if there is to be a theatrical performance, the stage is probably arranged. The gentlemen return, the guests take their places, and the performance begins. After the performance the leave-taking is the same as at all dinners or parties.

!TAKING LEAVE!

That the guest of honor must be first to take leave was in former times so fixed a rule that everyone used to sit on and on, no matter how late it became, waiting for her whose duty it was, to go! More often than not, the guest of honor was an absent-minded old lady, or celebrity, who very likely was vaguely saying to herself, "Oh, my! are these people never going home?" until by and by it dawned upon her that the obligation was her own!

But to-day, although it is still the obligation of the guest who sat on the host's right to make the move to go, it is not considered ill-mannered, if the hour is growing late, for another lady to rise first. In fact, unless the guest of honor is one really, meaning a stranger or an elderly lady of distinction, there is no actual precedence in being the one first to go. If the hour is very early when the first lady rises, the hostess, who always rises too, very likely says: "I hope you are not thinking of going!"

The guest answers, "We don't want to in the least, but d.i.c.k has to be at the office so early!" or "I'm sorry, but I must. Thank you so much for asking us."

Usually, however, each one merely says, "Good night, thank you so much." The hostess answers, "I am so glad you could come!" and she then presses a bell (not one that any guest can hear!) for the servants to be in the dressing-rooms and hall. When one guest leaves, they all leave--except those at the bridge tables. They all say, "Good night" to whomever they were talking with and shake hands, and then going up to their hostess, they shake hands and say, "Thank you for asking us," or "Thank you so much."

"Thank you so much; good night," is the usual expression. And the hostess answers, "It was so nice to see you again," or "I'm glad you could come." But most usually of all she says merely, "Good night!" and suggests friendliness by the tone in which she says it--an accent slightly more on the "good" perhaps than on the "night."

In the dressing-room, or in the hall, the maid is waiting to help the ladies on with their wraps, and the butler is at the door. When Mr. and Mrs. Jones are ready to leave, he goes out on the front steps and calls, "Mr. Jones' car!" The Jones' chauffeur answers, "Here," the butler says to either Mr. or Mrs. Jones, "Your car is at the door!" and they go out.

The bridge people leave as they finish their games; sometimes a table at a time or most likely two together. (Husbands and wives are never, if it can be avoided, put at the same table.) Young people in saying good night say, "Good night, it has been too wonderful!" or "Good night, and thank you so much." And the hostess smiles and says, "So glad you could come!" or just "Good night!"

!THE LITTLE DINNER!

The little dinner is thought by most people to be the very pleasantest social function there is. It is always informal, of course, and intimate conversation is possible, since strangers are seldom, or at least very carefully, included. For younger people, or others who do not find great satisfaction in conversation, the dinner of eight and two tables of bridge afterwards has no rival in popularity. The formal dinner is liked by most people now and then (and for those who don't especially like it, it is at least salutary as a spine stiffening exercise), but for night after night, season after season, the little dinner is to social activity what the roast course is to the meal.

The service of a "little" dinner is the same as that of a big one. As has been said, proper service in properly run houses is never relaxed, whether dinner is for eighteen or for two alone. The table appointments are equally fine and beautiful, though possibly not quite so rare. Really priceless old gla.s.s and china can't be replaced because duplicates do not exist and to use it three times a day would be to court destruction; replicas, however, are scarcely less beautiful and can be replaced if chipped. The silver is identical; the food is equally well prepared, though a course or two is eliminated; the service is precisely the same. The clothes that fas.h.i.+onable people wear every evening they are home alone, are, if not the same, at least as beautiful of their kind. Young Gilding's lounge suit is quite as "handsome" as his dinner clothes, and he tubs and shaves and changes his linen when he puts it on. His wife wears a tea gown, which is cla.s.sified as a neglige rather in irony, since it is apt to be more elaborate and gorgeous (to say nothing of dignified) than half of the garments that masquerade these days as evening dresses! They wear these informal clothes only if very intimate friends are coming to dinner alone. "Alone" may include as many as eight!--but never includes a stranger.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A DINNER SERVICE WITHOUT SILVER--"THE LITTLE DINNER IS THOUGHT BY MOST PEOPLE TO BE THE VERY PLEASANTEST SOCIAL FUNCTION THERE IS." [Page 228.]]

Otherwise, at informal dinners, the host wears a dinner coat and the hostess a simple evening dress, or perhaps an elaborate one that has been seen by everyone and which goes on at little dinners for the sake of getting some "wear out of it." She never, however, receives formally standing, though she rises when a guest comes into the room, shakes hands and sits down again. When dinner is announced, gentlemen do not offer their arms to the ladies. The hostess and the other ladies go into the dining-room together, not in a procession, but just as they happen to come. If one of them is much older than the others, the younger ones wait for her to go ahead of them, or one who is much younger goes last. The men stroll in the rear. The hostess on reaching the dining-room goes to her own place where she stands and tells everyone where she or he is to sit. "Mary, will you sit next to Jim, and Lucy on his other side; Kate, over there, Bobo, next to me," etc.

!CARVING ON THE TABLE!

Carving is sometimes seen at "home" dinner tables. A certain type of man always likes to carve, and such a one does. But in forty-nine houses out of fifty, in New York at least, the carving is done by the cook in the kitchen--a roast while it is still in the roasting pan, and close to the range at that, so that nothing can possibly get cooled off in the carving. After which the pieces are carefully put together again, and transferred to an intensely hot platter. This method has two advantages over table carving; quicker service, and hotter food. Unless a change takes place in the present fas.h.i.+on, none except cooks will know anything about carving, which was once considered an art necessary to every gentleman. The boast of the high-born Southerner, that he could carve a canvas-back holding it on his fork, will be as unknown as the driving of a four-in-hand.

Old-fas.h.i.+oned butlers sometimes carve in the pantry, but in the most modern service all carving is done by the cook. Cold meats are, in the English service, put whole on the sideboard and the family and guests cut off what they choose themselves. In America cold meat is more often sliced and laid on a platter garnished with finely chopped meat jelly and water cress or parsley.

!THE "STAG" OR "BACHELOR" DINNER!

A man's dinner is sometimes called a "stag" or a "bachelor" dinner; and as its name implies, is a dinner given by a man and for men only. A man's dinner is usually given to celebrate an occasion of welcome or farewell. The best-known bachelor dinner is the one given by the groom just before his wedding. Other dinners are more apt to be given by one man (or a group of men) in honor of a noted citizen who has returned from a long absence, or who is about to embark on an expedition or a foreign mission. Or a young man may give a dinner in honor of a friend's twenty-first birthday; or an older man may give a dinner merely because he has a quant.i.ty of game which he has shot and wants to share with his especial friends.

Nearly always a man's dinner is given at the host's club or his bachelor quarters or in a private room in a hotel. But if a man chooses to give a stag dinner in his own house, his wife (or his mother) should not appear. For a wife to come downstairs and receive the guests for him, can not be too strongly condemned as out of place. Such a maneuver on her part, instead of impressing his guests with her own grace and beauty, is far more likely to make them think what a "poor worm" her husband must be, to allow himself to be hen-pecked. And for a mother to appear at a son's dinner is, if anything, worse. An essential piece of advice to every woman is: No matter how much you may want to say "How do you do" to your husband's or your son's friends--don't!

CHAPTER XV.

DINNER GIVING WITH LIMITED EQUIPMENT.

!THE SERVICE PROBLEM!

People who live all the year in the country are not troubled with formal dinner giving, because (excepting on great estates) formality and the country do not go together.

For the one or two formal dinners which the average city dweller feels obliged to give every season, nothing is easier than to hire professionals; it is also economical, since nothing is wasted in experiment. A cook equal to the Gildings' chef can be had to come in and cook your dinner at about the price of two charwomen; skilled butlers or waitresses are to be had in all cities of any size at comparatively reasonable fees.

The real problem is in giving the innumerable casual and informal dinners for which professionals are not only expensive, but inappropriate. The problem of limited equipment would not present great difficulty if the tendency of the age were toward a slower pace, but the opposite is the case; no one wants to be kept waiting a second at table, and the world of fas.h.i.+on is growing more impatient and critical instead of less.

The service of a dinner can however be much simplified and shortened by choosing dishes that do not require accessories.

!DISHES THAT HAVE ACCOMPANYING CONDIMENTS!

Nothing so delays the service of a dinner as dishes that must immediately be followed by necessary accessories. If there is no one to help the butler or waitress, no dish must be included on the menu--unless you are only one or two at table, or unless your guests are neither critical nor "modern"--that is not complete in itself.

For instance, fish has nearly always an accompanying dish. Broiled fish, or fish meuniere, has ice-cold cuc.u.mbers sliced as thin as Saratoga chips, with a very highly seasoned French dressing, or a mixture of cuc.u.mbers and tomatoes. Boiled fish always has mousseline, Hollandaise, mushroom or egg sauce, and round scooped boiled potatoes sprinkled with parsley. Fried fish must always be accompanied by tartar sauce and pieces of lemon, and a boiled fish even if covered with sauce when served, is usually followed by additional sauce.

Many meats have condiments. Roast beef is never served at a dinner party--it is a family dish and generally has Yorks.h.i.+re pudding or roast potatoes on the platter with the roast itself, and is followed by pickles or spiced fruit.

Turkey likewise, with its chestnut stuffing and accompanying cranberry sauce, is not a "company" dish, though excellent for an informal dinner. Saddle of mutton is a typical company dish--all mutton has currant jelly. Lamb has mint sauce--or mint jelly.

Partridge or guinea hen must have two sauce boats--presented on one tray--browned bread-crumbs in one, and cream sauce in the other.

Apple sauce goes with barnyard duck.

The best accompaniment to wild duck is the precisely timed 18 minutes in a quick oven! And celery salad, which goes with all game, need not be especially hurried.

Salad is always the accompaniment of "tame game," aspics, cold meat dishes of all sorts, and is itself "accompanied by" crackers and cheese or cheese souffle or cheese straws.

!SPECIAL MENUS OF UNACCOMPANIED DISHES!

One person can wait on eight people if dishes are chosen which need no supplements. The fewer the dishes to be pa.s.sed, the fewer the hands needed to pa.s.s them. And yet many housekeepers thoughtlessly order dishes within the list above, and then wonder why the dinner is so hopelessly slow, when their waitress is usually so good!

The following suggestions are merely offered in ill.u.s.tration; each housekeeper can easily devise further for herself. It is not necessary to pa.s.s anything whatever with melon or grapefruit, or a macedoine of fruit, or a canape. Oysters, on the other hand, have to be followed by tabasco and b.u.t.tered brown bread. Soup needs nothing with it (if you do not choose split pea which needs croutons, or pet.i.te marmite which needs grated cheese). Fish dishes which are "made" with sauce in the dish, such as sole au vin blanc, lobster Newburg, crab ravigote, fish mousse, especially if in a ring filled with plenty of sauce, do not need anything more. Tartar sauce for fried fish can be put in baskets made of hollowed-out lemon rind--a basket for each person--and used as a garnis.h.i.+ng around the dish.

Filet mignon, or fillet of beef, both of them surrounded by little clumps of vegetables share with chicken ca.s.serole in being the life-savers of the hostess who has one waitress in her dining-room. Another dish, but more appropriate to lunch than to dinner, is of French chops banked against mashed potatoes, or puree of chestnuts, and surrounded by string beans or peas. None of these dishes requires any following dish whatever, not even a vegetable.

Fried chicken with corn fritters on the platter is almost as good as the two beef dishes, since the one green vegetable which should go with it, can be served leisurely, because fried chicken is not quickly eaten. And a ring of aspic with salad in the center does not require accompanying crackers as immediately as plain lettuce.

Steak and broiled chicken are fairly practical since neither needs gravy, condiment, or sauce--especially if you have a divided vegetable dish so that two vegetables can be pa.s.sed at the same time.

If a hostess chooses not necessarily the above dishes but others which approximately take their places, she need have no fear of a slow dinner, if her one butler or waitress is at all competent.

!THE POSSIBILITIES OF THE PLAIN COOK!

In giving informal or little dinners, you need never worry because you cannot set the dishes of a "professional" dinner-party cook before your friends or even strangers; so long as the food that you are offering is good of its kind.

It is by no means necessary that your cook should be able to make the "clear" soup that is one of the tests of the perfect cook (and practically never produced by any other); nor is it necessary that she be able to construct comestible mosaics and sculptures. The essential thing is to prevent her from attempting anything she can't do well. If she can make certain dishes that are pretty as well as good to taste, so much the better. But remember, the more pretentious a dish is, the more it challenges criticism.

If your cook can make neither clear nor cream soup, but can make a delicious clam chowder, better far to have a clam chowder! On no account let her attempt clear green turtle, which has about as good a chance to be perfect as a supreme of boned capon--in other words, none whatsoever! And the same way throughout dinner. Whichever dishes your own particular Nora or Selma or Marie can do best, those are the ones you must have for your dinners. Another thing: it is not important to have variety. Because you gave the Normans chicken ca.s.serole the last time they dined with you is no reason why you should not give it to them again--if that is the "specialty of the house" as the French say. A late, and greatly loved, hostess whose Sunday luncheons at a huge country house just outside of Was.h.i.+ngton were for years one of the outstanding features of Was.h.i.+ngton's smartest society, had the same lunch exactly, week after week, year after year. Those who went to her house knew just as well what the dishes would be as they did where the dining-room was situated. At her few enormous and formal dinners in town, her cook was allowed to be magnificently architectural, but if you dined with her alone, the chances were ten to one that the Sunday chicken and pancakes would appear before you.

!DO NOT EXPERIMENT FOR STRANGERS!

Typical dinner-party dishes are invariably the temptation no less than the downfall of ambitious ignorance. Never let an inexperienced cook attempt a new dish for company, no matter how attractive her description of it may sound. Try it yourself, or when you are having family or most intimate friends who will understand if it turns out all wrong that it is a "trial" dish. In fact, it is a very good idea to share the testing of it with some one who can help you in suggestions, if they are needed for its improvement. Or supposing you have a cook who is rather poor on all dinner dishes, but makes delicious bread and cake and waffles and oyster stew and creamed chicken, or even has.h.!.+ You can make a specialty of asking people to "supper." Suppers are necessarily informal, but there is no objection in that. Formal parties play a very small role anyway compared to informal ones. There are no end of people, and the smartest ones at that, who entertain only in the most informal possible way. Mrs. Oldname gives at most two formal dinners a year; her typical dinners and suppers are for eight.

!PROPER DIs.h.i.+NG!

The "dis.h.i.+ng" is quite as important as the cooking; a smear or thumb-mark on the edge of a dish is like a spot on the front of a dress!

Water must not be allowed to collect at the bottom of a dish (that is why a folded napkin is always put under boiled fish and sometimes under asparagus). And dishes must be hot; they cannot be too hot! Meat juice that has started to crust is nauseating. Far better have food too hot to eat and let people take their time eating it than that others should suffer the disgust of cold victuals! Sending in cold food is one of the worst faults (next to not knowing how to cook) that a cook can have.

!PROFESSIONAL OR HOME DINING ROOM SERVICE!

Just as it is better to hire a professional dinner-party cook than to run the risk of attempting a formal dinner with your own Nora or Selma unless you are very sure she is adequate, in the same way it is better to have a professional waitress as captain over your own, or a professional butler over your own inexperienced one, than to have your meal served in spasms and long pauses. But if your waitress, a.s.sisted by the chambermaid, perfectly waits on six, you will find that they can very nicely manage ten, even with accompanied dishes.

!BLUNDERS IN SERVICE!

If an inexperienced servant blunders, you should pretend, if you can, not to know it. Never attract anyone's attention to anything by apologizing or explaining, unless the accident happens to a guest. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances "least said, soonest mended" is the best policy. If a servant blunders, it makes the situation much worse to take her to task, the cause being usually that she is nervous or ignorant. Speak, if it is necessary to direct her, very gently and as kindly as possible; your object being to restore confidence, not to increase the disorder. Beckon her to you and tell her as you might tell a child you were teaching: "Give Mrs. Smith a tablespoon, not a teaspoon." Or, "You have forgotten the fork on that dish." Never let her feel that you think her stupid, but encourage her as much as possible and when she does anything especially well, tell her so.

!THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF PRAISE!

Nearly all people are quick to censure but rather chary of praise. Admonish of course where you must, but censure only with justice, and don't forget that whether of high estate or humble, we all of us like praise--sometimes. When a guest tells you your dinner is the best he has ever eaten, remember that the cook cooked it, and tell her it was praised. Or if the dining-room service was silent and quick and perfect, then tell those who served it how well it was done. If you are entertaining all the time, you need not commend your household after every dinner you give, but if any especial willingness, attentiveness, or tact is shown, don't forget that a little praise is not only merest justice but is beyond the purse of no one.

CHAPTER XVI.

LUNCHEONS, BREAKFASTS AND SUPPERS.

!THE INVITATIONS!

Although the engraved card is occasionally used for an elaborate luncheon, especially for one given in honor of a noted person, formal invitations to lunch in very fas.h.i.+onable houses are nearly always written in the first person, and rarely sent out more than a week in advance. For instance: Dear Mrs. Kindhart (or Martha): Will you lunch with me on Monday the tenth at half after one o'clock?

Hoping so much to see you, Sincerely (or affectionately), Jane Toplofty.

If the above lunch were given in honor of somebody--Mrs. Eminent, for instance--the phrase "to meet Mrs. Eminent" would have been added immediately after the word "o'clock." At a very large luncheon for which the engraved card might be used, "To meet Mrs. Eminent" would be written across the top of the card of invitation.

Informal invitations are telephoned nearly always.

Invitation to a stand-up luncheon (or breakfast; it is breakfast if the hour is twelve or half after, and lunch if at one, or one-thirty), is either telephoned or written on an ordinary visiting card: [HW: Sat. Oct. 2. Luncheon at 1 o'clock]

Mr. and Mrs. Gilding GOLDEN HALL If R.s.v.p. is added in the lower corner, the invitation should be answered, otherwise the hostess is obliged to guess how many to provide for.

Or, if the hostess prefers, a personal note is always courteous: Dear Mrs. Neighbor: We are having a stand-up luncheon on Sat.u.r.day, October Second, at one o'clock, and hope that you and your husband and any guests who may be staying with you will come, Very sincerely yours, Alice Toplofty Gilding. Golden Hall Sept. 27.

A personal note always exacts a reply--which may however be telephoned, unless the invitation was worded in the formal third person. A written answer is more polite, if the hostess is somewhat of a stranger to you.

!THE FORMAL LUNCHEON OF TO-DAY!

Luncheon, being a daylight function, is never so formidable as a dinner, even though it may be every bit as formal and differ from the latter in minor details only. Luncheons are generally given by, and for, ladies, but it is not unusual, especially in summer places or in town on Sat.u.r.day or Sunday, to include an equal number of gentlemen.

But no matter how large or formal a luncheon may be, there is rarely a chauffeur on the sidewalk, or a carpet or an awning. The hostess, instead of receiving at the door, sits usually in the center of the room in some place that has an un.o.bstructed approach from the door. Each guest coming into the room is preceded by the butler to within a short speaking distance of the hostess, where he announces the new arrival's name, and then stands aside. Where there is a waitress instead of a butler, guests greet the hostess unannounced. The hostess rises, or if standing takes a step forward, shakes hands, says "I'm so glad to see you," or "I am delighted to see you," or "How do you do!" She then waits for a second or two to see if the guest who has just come in speaks to anyone; if not, she makes the necessary introduction.

When the butler or waitress has "counted heads" and knows the guests have arrived, he or she enters the room, bows to the hostess and says, "Luncheon is served."

If there is a guest of honor, the hostess leads the way to the dining-room, walking beside her. Otherwise, the guests go in twos or threes, or even singly, just as they happen to come, except that the very young make way for their elders, and gentlemen stroll in with those they happen to be talking to, or, if alone, fill in the rear. The gentlemen never offer their arms to ladies in going in to a luncheon--unless there should be an elderly guest of honor, who might be taken in by the host, as at a dinner. But the others follow informally.

!THE TABLE!

Candles have no place on a lunch or breakfast table; and are used only where a dining-room is unfortunately without daylight. Also a plain damask tablecloth (which must always be put on top of a thick table felt) is correct for dinner but not for luncheon. The traditional lunch table is "bare"--which does not mean actually bare at all, but that it has a centerpiece, either round or rectangular or square, with place mats to match, made in literally unrestricted varieties of linen, needlework and lace. The centerpiece is anywhere from 30 inches to a yard and a half square, on a square or round table, and from half a yard to a yard wide by length in proportion to the length of a rectangular table. The place mats are round or square or rectangular to match, and are put at the places.

Or if the table is a refectory one, instead of centerpiece and doilies, the table is set with a runner not reaching to the edge at the side, but falling over both ends. Or there may be a tablecloth made to fit the top of the table to within an inch or two of its edge. Occasionally there is a real cloth that hangs over like a dinner cloth, but it always has lace or open-work and is made of fine linen so that the table shows through.