She Walks in Beauty by Siri Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page A

and what they had been wearing.
    I had just opened my mouth to ask her about her training for our debut when she spoke again.
    “And did you see that woman in church? The one wearing the Havana brown-colored mantle? Mama said she hadn’t seen one in years! I can’t imagine that anyone would find it attractive.”
    “Perhaps she was just trying to stay warm.”
    “Warm! Why would warmth matter on a Sunday morning? One can get by with a stole at a dance and one can wear a higher collar at a reception, but on Sunday morning? Everyone sees you as you are. For a full hour and a half. Some from the back, and some from the side. No, there is no day so important to fashion as a Sunday!”
    Lizzie left me quite as pained as she had found me, her words and general good humor ringing in my ears.

    The next day with Aunt was given over to the practice of polite conversation. I was almost looking forward to it. There were so many interesting things of which to speak. The poor and the Riis book. Tammany Hall and politics. Since Miss Miller’s departure, I had longed to find someone with whom to discuss the issues of the day.
    “The first rule is that there must be no mention of any unpleasant topic.”
    No unpleasant topics? “But then … what is there of interest to converse about? And why wouldn’t I want to know what Mr. De Vries thinks about . . .” In my haste I had almost confessed to reading the Riis book. A thing that I had become quite sure I must not do.
    “About?”
    But why shouldn’t I confess to reading the Riis book? Any person with any kind of conscience would be aghast at the things that went on in the city. I lifted my chin and answered her question directly. “About the Jacob Riis book, for instance.”
    “And how do you know about the Riis book?”
    “Miss Miller gave me a copy.”
    Aunt frowned. “Lies. Everything that man says is a lie. He’s an immigrant, for goodness’ sake!”
    “There are photographs in the book. I could show you! All those poor people who live in the tenements on the Lower East Side—”
    “He’s a liar. As for Mr. De Vries, he’ll think what any other normal person thinks about the poor: Some races are simply inferior to our own. The Irish, for instance. And the Italians. If they’re poor and they live in tenements, then it’s their own fault.”
    “I don’t think anyone would choose to live in a building that’s falling down upon them.”
    “Exactly. So if they do, then there’s bound to be something wrong with them, isn’t there?”
    “Do you really think that’s what the heir thinks?” Could he truly be so unfeeling?
    “That’s what most people with any sense believe. If God wanted the poor to prosper, then they would. If they’re not, then they deserve what they get. And of course that’s what he’ll think. Which is why there’s no need to mention it. Why speak of such unpleasantness when there are so many other things of which to speak? There must be no mention of politics or religion or any other objectionable topic. Nothing which will offend any of your listeners. Nothing which will lead to any lengthy sort of conversation. And you must always enunciate.”
    No politics, religion, or any other objectionable topic. What was left?
    “Now you may practice.”
    “Practice … what?”
    “Conversing.”
    “With whom?”
    Aunt looked down, pointedly, at the dog dozing on her lap.
    “The dog can’t talk.”
    “And neither will most of the people you attempt to converse with. It is always to your advantage to know how to carry on a conversation with a person who cannot or will not speak.”
    “I couldn’t just say, for example, ‘Good day’? And then leave?”
    “You could not.”
    “It’s rather difficult to speak to someone who’s sleeping.”
    Aunt roused the dog and then set it on the tea table. It blinked and opened its mouth for a yawn, exposing a row of sharp tiny teeth and a little pink tongue.
    “You may begin.”
    I directed my