amusing anecdotes or to remember everybody’s names. And she needn’t worry about embarrassing lapses in table conversation, for the silence in the dining room was filled by the sounds of eating and the clatter of knives and forks against china. The women at the table ate with gusto, relishing the fried chicken dinner with all the trimmings. And once supper was over, each woman carefully stacked her dishes and carried them into the kitchen for washing. That chore completed, two women hurried upstairs, while the other four withdrew to the front parlor.
After finishing the last of the peach cobbler Mrs. Bender served for dessert, Elizabeth rose from the table. Deciding to follow the example of the four women who had withdrawn to the front parlor, she carried her dishes into thekitchen. She retraced her steps through the dining room and into the front parlor, where one of the women—Trudy, she thought—was playing “Aura Lee” on a slightly out-of-tune piano.
Seating herself on a horsehair loveseat near the doorway, Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and politely waited to see if the other women would invite her to participate in their after-dinner conversation and entertainment. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect in a cosmopolitan city like San Francisco, but back home in Providence it was customary to host after-dinner musical recitals, book and poetry readings or play parlor games like anagrams or charades.
“Some gent taking you out on the town tonight? To the opera or something?” the young woman in racy red camisole and pantalets asked, nodding her head to indicate Elizabeth’s evening dress.
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head.
“Why you all dressed up?” another asked.
Elizabeth glanced down at her gown. “I’ve always dressed for dinner.”
“I’ve always dressed for dinner,”
someone mimicked. “What about the way we dress for dinner? What do you think about that?”
“I didn’t think it was polite to comment,” Elizabeth addressed the room. “For all I know, your mode of dress may be customary in this part of San Francisco.”
A trill of high-pitched laughter drowned out the sound of the piano.
“She didn’t think it was polite to comment on our mode of dress!” the young woman in the racy red camisole laughingly exclaimed. “Thought it might be customary in this part of Frisco! Did you hear that, Eleanor?”
Eleanor, dressed in the corset and silk stockings, turned to glare at Elizabeth. “You meeting a gentleman here tonight? Is he coming to the party?”
“I don’t know anything about a party,” Elizabeth replied. “I just assumed it was customary for the residentsto gather in the parlor for after-dinner entertainments.”
“You assumed correctly,” Eleanor said bluntly. “And incorrectly.
We
”—she waved her hand to encompass the other women in the room—“do gather in the parlor every night after supper for after-dinner entertainments. But I don’t think it’s the type of parlor games you’re accustomed to.”
Eleanor looked over at Augusta Bender. “Did you invite Miss Sadler to our little social gathering this evening?”
Mrs. Bender shook her head.
“Then maybe it would be better if she didn’t stick around to witness the gentlemen’s arrival.” Eleanor leaned so far forward on her chair that Elizabeth could see the rouged tips of her massive bosom peeking out above her corset.
Augusta Bender shrugged her shoulders at Eleanor’s suggestion. “Miss Sadler’s paid her money,” she announced. “In full and in advance. And she’s free to stay and receive the gentlemen callers same as all of you if she chooses.”
“You’re receiving gentlemen callers tonight?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe her ears. “Dressed like that?” She blushed when she realized how rude her question was.
“That’s right, Sugar,” Eleanor drawled as the heavy tread of male feet and the low murmur of masculine voices sounded on the front porch, seconds before
After finishing the last of the peach cobbler Mrs. Bender served for dessert, Elizabeth rose from the table. Deciding to follow the example of the four women who had withdrawn to the front parlor, she carried her dishes into thekitchen. She retraced her steps through the dining room and into the front parlor, where one of the women—Trudy, she thought—was playing “Aura Lee” on a slightly out-of-tune piano.
Seating herself on a horsehair loveseat near the doorway, Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap and politely waited to see if the other women would invite her to participate in their after-dinner conversation and entertainment. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect in a cosmopolitan city like San Francisco, but back home in Providence it was customary to host after-dinner musical recitals, book and poetry readings or play parlor games like anagrams or charades.
“Some gent taking you out on the town tonight? To the opera or something?” the young woman in racy red camisole and pantalets asked, nodding her head to indicate Elizabeth’s evening dress.
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head.
“Why you all dressed up?” another asked.
Elizabeth glanced down at her gown. “I’ve always dressed for dinner.”
“I’ve always dressed for dinner,”
someone mimicked. “What about the way we dress for dinner? What do you think about that?”
“I didn’t think it was polite to comment,” Elizabeth addressed the room. “For all I know, your mode of dress may be customary in this part of San Francisco.”
A trill of high-pitched laughter drowned out the sound of the piano.
“She didn’t think it was polite to comment on our mode of dress!” the young woman in the racy red camisole laughingly exclaimed. “Thought it might be customary in this part of Frisco! Did you hear that, Eleanor?”
Eleanor, dressed in the corset and silk stockings, turned to glare at Elizabeth. “You meeting a gentleman here tonight? Is he coming to the party?”
“I don’t know anything about a party,” Elizabeth replied. “I just assumed it was customary for the residentsto gather in the parlor for after-dinner entertainments.”
“You assumed correctly,” Eleanor said bluntly. “And incorrectly.
We
”—she waved her hand to encompass the other women in the room—“do gather in the parlor every night after supper for after-dinner entertainments. But I don’t think it’s the type of parlor games you’re accustomed to.”
Eleanor looked over at Augusta Bender. “Did you invite Miss Sadler to our little social gathering this evening?”
Mrs. Bender shook her head.
“Then maybe it would be better if she didn’t stick around to witness the gentlemen’s arrival.” Eleanor leaned so far forward on her chair that Elizabeth could see the rouged tips of her massive bosom peeking out above her corset.
Augusta Bender shrugged her shoulders at Eleanor’s suggestion. “Miss Sadler’s paid her money,” she announced. “In full and in advance. And she’s free to stay and receive the gentlemen callers same as all of you if she chooses.”
“You’re receiving gentlemen callers tonight?” Elizabeth couldn’t believe her ears. “Dressed like that?” She blushed when she realized how rude her question was.
“That’s right, Sugar,” Eleanor drawled as the heavy tread of male feet and the low murmur of masculine voices sounded on the front porch, seconds before
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