“Yes’m,” Anna said, flushed with excitement, as she felt the garment close around her like a gentle hand.

“My land, y’all’s tiny ’nuff,” Abby exclaimed, as she pulled the laces until the two halves of the back met. “This’s the liddlest model we got!” Abby came around to the front and surveyed her with a critical eye. “Aye, thet’ll do, thet’ll do. Y’all c’n jest unhook it in th’ front ter lay it aside an’ sleep, an’ hook it back up in th’ mornin’. Wash it reg’lar, but gentle, jest sponge’t like yore skirt hem. Iffen y’all thank it’s gettin’ shabby, give’t a good scrub an’ bleach but dry it quick. Thar’s jest a liddle steel bonin’ innit, an’ thet’ll rust iffen it don’t dry in a hurry. An’ make a purdy cover fer it; thet’ll make it last twice as long.”

“Yes’m,” Anna said, making careful mental notes.

“Don’t be afeered t’ arst yore aunt ’bout dressin’ up. She goes her own way, but she knows how t’tend t’ ladies thangs t’ keep ’em clean an’ make ’em last.” Abby took her shoulders and turned her around in place, then nodded in satisfaction. “Aye, thet’ll do. Y’all c’n put yore thangs on now.”

Anna put her waist back on, and had no trouble bending over to retrieve her skirt and petticoat. She was tickled to see how much nicer her clothing lay over the corset, and vowed to make a really nice corset cover to save it from getting dirty as Abby had advised. “Y’all look like a proper woman now,” Abby said with approval. “Ain’t nobody gonna mistake y’all fer a liddle gel.”

Since this was precisely the effect Anna had hoped for, she beamed with pleasure and started to thank Abby Clay. But Abby just picked up the box—which looked to hold several more corsets—and shooed her downstairs and back into the store.

The loungers and checker-players didn’t even look up from their jawing and game, which was a little disappointing, but only a little. Her aunt smiled wryly—with the sort of expression that said I think yore plumb crazy, but I knowed this was what y’all wanted. And she did want this. She did not for a moment regret wanting it.

Among other things, Aunt Jinny had ordered flour, in sacks printed with patterns Anna could not imagine Jinny ever wearing—a tiny blue gingham check, and a pink with flower sprigs. There was no doubt the fabric of those sacks was destined for Anna, and she flushed with pleasure at the thought—and then started to worry about the cost. Her aunt hadn’t had much flour in the house, because she clearly preferred to save the money and just eat cornbread. And now there was the material for the dress, and a corset, and a lace collar and all. “Aunt Jinny—!” she began, but her aunt cut her off.

“Hush. We gotter eat. Reckon I was gittin’ a might weary of cornbread an’ johnnycake all th’ time, an’ with two on us up at th’ cabin, ’tis wuth makin’ bread an’ pie, cause we’ll et it afore it spoils.” Jim Clay nodded wisely as he totted up Jinny’s purchases.