We were in the habit of having our respective dinners and teas, and, mayhap, suppers, at certain appointed times and seasons--also duly regulated--and subsequently going to bed, to recruit for the same routine on the morrow, without any excitements, or renovation and destruction of tissue worth speaking of.
A "tea-party" was quite a sensation in the parish of Saint Canon's-- equivalent to one of the queen's garden fetes.

Beyond school treats and working parties, to which latter only the clergy and Lady Dorcases were admitted, and the anniversary of Christmas, when we sometimes _did_ indulge a little in wholesome but subdued gaiety, we went on from year's beginning to year's end without balls, or dinners, or dances, or any of those resources which fashionable people have for killing time and keeping up acquaintanceship.
We were not "high-toned" people; quite the reverse, in fact, as, I believe, I have previously described.

We only "dropped in" of an evening to see friends, and spend a quiet hour or two over bezique and music.

On these occasions, a carpet cotillon or quadrille has been sometimes indulged in; but it was the exception and not the rule.

We were generally satisfied with much milder pastime; our visits rarely exceeding the interval between tea and "supper" time, when we partook of a friendly, though seedy, abernethy and glass of wine or beer; and then went home virtuously to bed.
Our society being thus constituted, it became a matter almost of impossibility to meet any one particular person frequently, excepting out in the street, unless you had the entree of their house.