Mrs. Paul's Party

The little group bustled around in the drawing room, chattering and laughing and gossiping about the latest fashions in clothing, neighbors, and Parliament. Mrs. Paul huddled in one corner of the sofa, wishing it was all over. Oh, how she despised little parties like this! If only she could survive as hostess for one more half-hour, she would have done her social duty for the month, and then she would be free. She sipped her tea, trying to keep the cup from trembling in her hands, and hoped beyond hope that she would not be especially noticed.

It was to no avail. Lady Maud traipsed to the sofa, and even as Mrs. Paul wished her gone, the woman had settled her ponderous figure into the yellow cushions. Mrs. Paul managed a tiny smile. She no chance of escaping conversation now. 

"Well, Mrs. Paul, I declare you have outdone us all! This is the finest fete I have seen for many a fortnight!" boomed the lady. Mrs. Paul timidly raised her hand and smiled in an attempt to deny it. "Oh, no," said Lady Maud again, "you have outdone us. Why, my ball last week could not compare! It is all this tea, you know- nothing makes a party enjoyable like fruit teas."

"Most of it is herbal," squeaked Mrs. Paul.

Lady Maud was not listening. "Fruit teas from India! why, I'm sure I never thought of such a nice idea!" She waved her fan like a bellows and blew her frizzy flaming curls as if from a raging furnace. "Oh, dear Mrs. Paul, you must have more of that fruit tea next week."

Next week? Oh, dear, now she had set the expectation. Mrs. Paul must throw another party. She sighed silently, but stood and began collecting the empty teacups. Perhaps Lady Maud would take the hint that the party was nearly done.

"Next party? When?" squealed young Miss Blaine, a little wisp of a girl beside her aunt Lady Maud. "Oh, Mrs. Paul, you must have it soon!" She shoved the couch cushions out of her way as she took Mrs. Paul's former seat.

"It's the fruit teas, darling," chimed in Lady Maud with a nod of sagacity. "Everyone is simply mad about them. They go so nicely with the cakes!"

No, not the cakes! They had taken hours and hours to bake, it seemed. Yet Lady Maud was so fond of them, especially with the fruit tea. Mrs. Paul knew she must find some way of getting more cakes for the next party so Lady Maud would not be offended, but Miss Blaine was not finished. "We must have dancing! Oh, how I love dancing!"

Now Mrs. Paul was a little frightened. "Well, Mr. Paul does not quite approve of young ladies dancing late at night," she put in.

"My dear!" shouted Lady Maud, and Mrs. Paul nearly jumped into the air. "Really, Mr. Paul not approve? Why, the bishop himself approves of any sort of exercise! Besides, it won't be very late, now, will it? And you needn't hold it in the dining room if you fear disturbing Mr. Paul; you will of course hold the dancing here in the drawing room."

Miss Blaine clapped her hands and shrieked in delight. "Oh, yes, what a wonderful thought! Let us see how many couples we could fit in here." She gave the table such a strong shove that Mrs. Paul nearly shrieked herself, but no teacups shattered on the floor, and the room did look quite large enough for a few couples.

"Thirty couples at least!" said Lady Maud.

"Thirty?" echoed Mrs. Paul in dismay.

"Thirty!" shouted the little circle of ladies that had gathered about the sofas and begun moving them away.

Mrs. Paul collapsed onto one of the remaining ottomans, wondering what to do. She couldn't bear to say no once their hopes were so high. "Well..." faltered Mrs. Paul, "if Mr. Paul does not object, perhaps we could dance a little in here."

"Mr. Paul would love the idea!" said Miss Blaine. "He is always so kind to young people, you know."

Mrs. Paul knew that Mr. Paul would not love the idea. In fact, he would do much more than object. He had never been quite fond of Lady Maud or this raucous little group, but what could poor Mrs. Paul do now? Already the carpet had been rolled up and Miss Blaine was plinking away at the pianoforte while several girls tested the room for dancing.

Lady Maud clapped her hands twice. "Ladies, I've just had the most wonderful idea. Perhaps we could hold a party here tonight and see just how many couples we could fit on Saturday!"

Saturday? Mrs. Paul was almost affronted, but then she was ashamed. She could not harbor any indecent feeling toward Lady Maud. The lady certainly must know best what days were ideal for parties; oh, but what of church on Sunday? Dancing all night would make the entire society completely exhausted on the Sabbath. Oh, what to do?

"Perhaps Sunday afternoon would be a better fit," offered Mrs. Paul. Yet the group was so clamorous that no one heard her. Mrs. Paul looked around and could hardly recognize her own drawing room- tables and chairs thrown up into corners, a teacup or two smashed in the bustle, and that great rolled-up carpet tripping the five dancers as they twirled in dizzy circles. Mrs. Paul could not but think that she liked her little fete better than such a wild ball, no matter how her guests might like the idea. This was her party, not theirs. She must do something.

"Ladies, let us sit down, for goodness sake!" cried Mrs. Paul in the loudest voice she had ever used. All the whirling confusion stopped, and even Miss Blaine stopped her clanking at the pianoforte. Mrs. Paul's face was aflame, but she said firmly, "I will speak to Mr. Paul about the party first." And with that she pulled on the carpet and set it straight, determining that she would most certainly not hold another such party in her house. These foolish ladies could hold their own ball.