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to her mother.
    "Why, thank you, dear, how kind," said Mrs. Ogilvie. She chose three cakes and handed the plate to Mother,
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    who took two. As Mother handed the plate to Colette, it tilted and the cakes slid to the floor. A tiny dog with a red ribbon between its ears rushed in and gobbled the fallen cakes. My stomach rumbled.
    "So tell me, Lucille, what have you been doing for company this tedious August?" Pernilla asked. "Everyone, simply everyone, has rushed out to their country retreats. It is most annoying."
    I struggled to keep a straight face as I pictured Mother amidst the weeds, horseflies, and dead mice in our garden.
    Mrs. Ogilvie prattled on.
    "President Washington and Martha will soon leave for Virginia, of course, the Nortons and Hepstrudels are in Germantown, and my own sister took her family to New York. Did you know that I planned a gala ball and only two families responded? The rest of society has vanished!"
    Jeannine unfolded a silk fan and waved it, blowing a cloud of curls off her forehead. Shielding her mouth from her mother with the fan, she stuck her tongue out at me. Her wretched dog nipped at my shoe under the table.
    "The only people left in Philadelphia seem to be shopkeepers and wharf rats. Robert has an appointment with the mayor this very day to insist that he put an end to the rumors of yellow fever."
    "I heard a man died of the fever in the middle of the
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    street, and three black crows flew out of his mouth," said Jeannine.
    "Don't be vile, Jeannine," snapped her mother. "Those filthy refugees and creatures who live in the crowded hovels by the river, they're always sick with something. But it is a gross injustice that my gala should suffer because the lower class falls ill. Don't you agree, Lucille?"
    Mother struggled to keep the smile on her face as she changed the subject.
    "Are your sons still in town, Pernilla?" she asked.
    Jeannine's eyebrows went up and her mouth opened. Why did Mother have to be so obvious in her intent? Why not just hang a signboard around my neck: AVAILABLE-FOUL-MOUTHED DAUGHTER?
    "All of my brothers are away at school, Mrs. Cook," Jeannine answered quickly. "It's a shame they aren't here to meet you, Matilda. I'm sure you would amuse one of them."
    I flinched.
    "Colette has recently become engaged to Lord Garthing's son," Jeannine continued. "The gala was to have celebrated the engagement. Have you been courted yet, Matilda?"
    "Matilda is a bit young for suitors," interjected Mother. "But I must congratulate you on your good fortune, Colette. When is the wedding to be held?"
    Colette dabbed her napkin on her forehead. "Mama, it is rather warm in here."
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    "Colette always flushes when we discuss the wedding. She is such a delicate creature. Sensitive nerves." Mrs. Ogilvie had icing on the end of her nose.
    "Colette tried to avoid our lesson this morning by complaining of a mysterious illness," tattled Jeannine. "She just wants to lie about and read dreadful novels."
    "Has any of your sons found a bride?" asked Mother, determined not to let her subject slip away.
    Mrs. Ogilvie poured out another cup of tea. "We have many discussions, as you might imagine. My children are a blessing, to be sure, but it requires a great effort to secure the future of each one."
    Jeannine picked up the last cake on her plate, slowly bit into it, and licked the icing off her fingers.
    "Mother," I said through my teeth. We did not belong here. I did not belong here. Mother may have grown up with carriages and gowns, but I had not. I had to clasp my hands in my lap to keep from slapping Jeannine or shaking the life out of her mangy dog.
    Mother ignored me and plowed ahead.
    "Has any of your sons shown an interest in busi-
    v ness?
    Colette brought her tea cup to her lips, but spilled the tea into her lap. Mrs. Ogilvie didn't notice.
    "Trade?" she replied. "Robert thinks that our sons should go into law or banking. Trade is hardly suitable for someone of our background."
    Jeannine