and placed the rest of her clothes inside them.
When her chore was completed, Elizabeth reached into the pocket of the dress she was wearing and took out two brass hotel keys wrapped in James’s handkerchief. She unwrapped the keys and dropped them in the bureau drawer, then stared at the handkerchief and the initials embroidered in deep blue thread on one corner of the square of linen.
J. C. C. James
C. C. After carefully folding the handkerchief,Elizabeth placed it on top of a pile of her frilly undergarments and closed the bureau drawer.
She unbuttoned her dress, stepped out of it, and walked over to the washstand dressed in her camisole and petticoat. She tilted the pitcher of water over the chipped basin, intending to fill it, but halted abruptly when she discovered a cockroach lying on its back in the center of the bowl, its legs pointing toward the ceiling. Shuddering with distaste, Elizabeth set the pitcher down, then picked up the basin, carried it to the window, and emptied the dead roach into the street. She returned the basin to its place on the washstand, started to fill it with water from the pitcher again, then thought better of it. After inspecting the water in the pitcher for signs of more roaches or other vermin, Elizabeth took a clean washcloth from the bar on the side of the washstand, and held it folded in the palm of her left hand, while she used her right hand to pour water from the pitcher onto it.
It was an awkward way to bathe, but Elizabeth managed to do a credible job. She unpinned her hair, brushed it back into a neat chignon and repinned it, then dressed for dinner in a dark blue satin gown edged in matching velvet.
She entered the dining room promptly at six-thirty and discovered she was the only one of the other six female residents of Bender’s who had bothered to go to the trouble of bathing and dressing for dinner—or to dress at all. The other women had apparently interrupted their toilette in order to make it to the dinner table on time, for they were all in various stages of dress or undress. Elizabeth glanced around the room. Two young women wore thin dressing gowns and nothing else. One wore a lacy red camisole and matching pantalets. Two more women wore combinations of corsets, camisoles, and petticoats. And the last, a brazen woman of about thirty years of age, came to the supper table wearing a corset and silk stockings held up by frilly garters. Elizabeth blushed at the sight. The woman’s corset was laced so tightly her massive bosom threatened to spill over the edge of her corset and onto her plate.
“Wot’s this?” The young woman in the red camisole and pantalets turned to glare at Elizabeth as she slipped into a vacant seat at the end of the long dining table. “ ’ave we got a bloomin’ duchess here at Bender’s?”
Augusta Bender placed a huge bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. “What we have here is a lady,” she announced to the occupants seated at the table, shooting a warning glance at each of them. “A lady a bit down on her luck. She moved into number four this afternoon.” Mrs. Bender abruptly turned and exited into the kitchen. She returned a few moments later carrying a plate of fluffy yeast rolls and a platter of fried chicken. Mrs. Bender set the dishes on the table and began introducing the residents of her boarding house to Elizabeth, nodding her head at each woman as she introduced her. “That’s Phyllis seated next to you. She’s the Brit. Dove is beside Phyllis. Jennie’s the youngest. Trudy’s sitting beside Jennie. Eleanor is across from Jennie and Ida’s at the end of the table. Girls, this is Elizabeth Sadler. Be nice to her while she’s here,” Mrs. Bender instructed. “No more talkin’. Dig in to your supper while it’s hot. After all, you’re paying for it.”
There was no further attempt at dinner conversation, and Elizabeth was relieved that she didn’t have to try to fill the dinner hour with polite small talk or
When her chore was completed, Elizabeth reached into the pocket of the dress she was wearing and took out two brass hotel keys wrapped in James’s handkerchief. She unwrapped the keys and dropped them in the bureau drawer, then stared at the handkerchief and the initials embroidered in deep blue thread on one corner of the square of linen.
J. C. C. James
C. C. After carefully folding the handkerchief,Elizabeth placed it on top of a pile of her frilly undergarments and closed the bureau drawer.
She unbuttoned her dress, stepped out of it, and walked over to the washstand dressed in her camisole and petticoat. She tilted the pitcher of water over the chipped basin, intending to fill it, but halted abruptly when she discovered a cockroach lying on its back in the center of the bowl, its legs pointing toward the ceiling. Shuddering with distaste, Elizabeth set the pitcher down, then picked up the basin, carried it to the window, and emptied the dead roach into the street. She returned the basin to its place on the washstand, started to fill it with water from the pitcher again, then thought better of it. After inspecting the water in the pitcher for signs of more roaches or other vermin, Elizabeth took a clean washcloth from the bar on the side of the washstand, and held it folded in the palm of her left hand, while she used her right hand to pour water from the pitcher onto it.
It was an awkward way to bathe, but Elizabeth managed to do a credible job. She unpinned her hair, brushed it back into a neat chignon and repinned it, then dressed for dinner in a dark blue satin gown edged in matching velvet.
She entered the dining room promptly at six-thirty and discovered she was the only one of the other six female residents of Bender’s who had bothered to go to the trouble of bathing and dressing for dinner—or to dress at all. The other women had apparently interrupted their toilette in order to make it to the dinner table on time, for they were all in various stages of dress or undress. Elizabeth glanced around the room. Two young women wore thin dressing gowns and nothing else. One wore a lacy red camisole and matching pantalets. Two more women wore combinations of corsets, camisoles, and petticoats. And the last, a brazen woman of about thirty years of age, came to the supper table wearing a corset and silk stockings held up by frilly garters. Elizabeth blushed at the sight. The woman’s corset was laced so tightly her massive bosom threatened to spill over the edge of her corset and onto her plate.
“Wot’s this?” The young woman in the red camisole and pantalets turned to glare at Elizabeth as she slipped into a vacant seat at the end of the long dining table. “ ’ave we got a bloomin’ duchess here at Bender’s?”
Augusta Bender placed a huge bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. “What we have here is a lady,” she announced to the occupants seated at the table, shooting a warning glance at each of them. “A lady a bit down on her luck. She moved into number four this afternoon.” Mrs. Bender abruptly turned and exited into the kitchen. She returned a few moments later carrying a plate of fluffy yeast rolls and a platter of fried chicken. Mrs. Bender set the dishes on the table and began introducing the residents of her boarding house to Elizabeth, nodding her head at each woman as she introduced her. “That’s Phyllis seated next to you. She’s the Brit. Dove is beside Phyllis. Jennie’s the youngest. Trudy’s sitting beside Jennie. Eleanor is across from Jennie and Ida’s at the end of the table. Girls, this is Elizabeth Sadler. Be nice to her while she’s here,” Mrs. Bender instructed. “No more talkin’. Dig in to your supper while it’s hot. After all, you’re paying for it.”
There was no further attempt at dinner conversation, and Elizabeth was relieved that she didn’t have to try to fill the dinner hour with polite small talk or
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