The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [209]
I said, "I don’t think you should be afraid of attack, Helen. I was just in Kansas City myself, and in Independence, too, and they weren’t talking of that at all. They were talking of what a fool Jim Lane was and how he would never amount to anything." And, it is fair enough to add, I did believe this portion of what I was saying. ’And Robinson is in prison."
"But that was days ago!"
"Yes, but a four-hundred-man army of real soldiers doesn’t just turn up."
"But I’m sure it’s the federals, who’ve turned their coats and made up their minds to break the laws and comfort the traitors. It’s been months since John Brown and his sons hacked those men to death, and the federals haven’t stirred a stump out of their camps, because they don’t want to, no matter what the President tells them to do. Papa says it’s just a scandal and they should all be court-martialed, but the New Englanders have all the money in the world, and they make sure things go their way! Oh, my goodness, who will protect us!" But even as she said this, she was already sighing and growing calmer. Finally, she said, "Papa said I must go off to bed, but I don’t know how I’m going to sleep now! May I ... May I ..."
"Yes, you may sleep in here. I feel fine, and the bed is sufficiently large for the two of us, I think."
She was much relieved. I refrained from mentioning that should she awaken in the middle of the night, she would find an abolitionist right here in the room with her!
When she had gone to her own chamber and come back in her nightdress and wrapper, with her hair falling down her back and her candle in her hand, I said, ever so idly, "So tell me about your papa’s guests," and she named Mr. Harris and Mr. Perkins, and Mr. Smith and Mr. Chesbrough, but never Mr. Chaney or Mr. Samson. "They are all so old! Thirty-five, at least, and Mr. Chesbrough is fifty-six!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Truly I despair of ever finding a husband! Sometimes I almost wish for a war. Don’t you think officers are very handsome-looking and serious? If they would all come and march around, and then declare a truce, it would certainly be splendid!"
CHAPTER 23
I Improve My Acquaintance with Papa
Nankeens look best, washed in suds, with a teacup of ley added for each pailful. Iron on the wrong side. Soak new nankeens in ley, for one night, and it sets the color perfectly. —p. 288-89
EVERYTHING HELEN HAD PROMISED came quickly to pass. Isabelle arrived with the breakfast and inspected the two dresses while I was eating. As soon as Lorna took the tray away (the two women did avoid looking at one another), I stood up and was measured. Isabelle was not especially talkative, but she had a Louisiana lilt to her voice, "Lawsy, you be a big gal, missy. I don’ know ifn we got enough goods in de skirt! Hmm. What we gone to face this with?" But then she set to work and made over the nankeen in no time. The green gown she elected to take home with her, as she had some stuff she could piece into it, and then, with a bit of trim ... Helen was right: the woman was a genius.
I brushed my hair and put on the nankeen, which was flattering enough, perhaps as flattering a dress as I had ever had, and indeed I had never had a dress from Saint Louis, the reputed origin of this one. I felt it drape attractively about my figure. Mrs. Harris had also supplied an old petticoat, which, though rather too short, did the trick well enough.
It was thus that I was enabled to descend the stairs at suppertime and meet Papa.
I can hardly remember what I expected, perhaps some elegant long-haired sort, or, alternatively, a Ruffian so bearded that only his eyes were visible—as Mrs. Bush had said, Missourians all seemed to like to cultivate