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Alfie turns toward thehis head I hear him say softly, "God knows someone has to treat you like one"

Guthrie House, Palace of Wessco, 1953

The color of clothing is i people notice about you Black is glooirlish Patterns are important too Polka dots are too frivolous, florals too shallow, stripes and plaids can do nicely--but you ray

According to ray is the perfect color Not too drab, not too bold, it’s soft but not weak, attractive but not superficial

I’host outfit

Forever

"That one today, Megan" Miss Crabblesnitch points to the ensemble in the maid’s left hand--a tweed short-sleeved circle-dress with attached bouffant petticoats and ray Of course

After I’ins to arrange s swept to the side and a few strands loose to soften the look

"Good afternoon, ladies" Mother sweeps into the roo a y dark blue silk dress with a dainty white floral pattern Miria band in her curly, light brown hair

"Thank you, Megan I’ll finish up here," Mother says, taking the an curtsy and leave the room

"Never cut you hair, Lenora," Mother says as she pins it "It’s so beautiful"

Mother is the only one who calls me beautiful and sweet and a hundred other words that htful inside That ine "normal" must be

She finishesher nose "Miss Crabblesnitch chose gray again?"

I sigh dramatically "Gray like the dreary Wessco skyand azes at the sparkly, poofy gown hanging just outside ht at your birthday ball"

I stand up beside her "Yes, because silver is so very different froray"

Mother presses her soft hand to my cheek "It complements your eyes You will be a vision"

"I want to have a black-and-white ball for my birthday," Miriam says "And everyone ear black and white--except I’ll be in electric blue And I’ll meet the love of my life and we’ll dance and dance and dance And no one will look at Lenora"

My fourteen-year-old sister sticks her tongue out at

"You can have all the looks," I tell her "If no one ever turned ain, I’d be perfectly happy"

Mother checks her watch "Cos Your father is downstairs and you know he hates to be kept waiting"

Father stands at the bottoht, hands folded behind his back He’s many years older than Mother, with lines on his face and ether they’re an attractive couple, and as he gazes up at her, his gray-blue eyes are bright, like those of a er ives us none It’s never been his way But he offers Mother his arrand marble foyer toward the car that will take us to the Parliament luncheon to celebrate ht," ie It’s her sixteenth birthday," Mother co about her with this or that randy son of a lord because she was seen dancing too closely"

Ruehammer--you can repair it, but it will never be as it was before The Archbishop of Dingleberrydon’t even get me started on his nametold Father that once He has a puckered, bitter face like a piece of fruit that’s gone bad, and you can just tell his ain "For goodness sakes, it’s not the eighteen hundreds"

And s I’ll ever hear:

"Within these walls, it still is"