Lena and Marcia dreamed of strange, incredible adventures in which Burnadetta or Jerry said, “Hello,” and even walked through the school gates with them, to the envy of all. This, they felt, could be accomplished if Aunt Lois in all her beauty and efficiency would suddenly come to school for them, showing these children of plain mothers that a beautiful aunt was much more desirable. But these were dreams and not to be counted upon.

School clothes were different here, too, being Peter Thompsons or middy suits, purchased in the Juvenile Department, and not at all like the grown-up hand-me-downs made over by Isobel and sent over twice a year. Lesterville schoolchildren had allowances, ate lunch in the school cafeteria, and traveled back and forth to school in “bunches” on the streetcar, or went to the Sugar Bowl for banana splits at recess. Uninvited to do this, even if they had the money, Lena and Marcia hid in the basement toilet at recess or pretended to have nosebleed, and at noon walked all the way home for bread and milk and ginger snaps. Florrie, being in the first grade, and completely trusting, was fortunate enough to be Teacher’s pet, so she was launched in games by her patron and often invited to share Teacher’s lunch. Saturdays and Sundays were days when other children had mysterious club meetings, picnics, picture shows, visits to the park or menagerie; Papa had to work Saturdays, so there was nothing to do but skip the rope in front of Mrs. Jane’s house or just sit on the stoop in silence. They were afraid of the busy street clanging with streetcars, factory bells and ear-splitting whistles, and crowded with the steelworkers jostling each other along with grim, intent faces, sometimes shouting bad words that made the very air shiver.

So they sat on the narrow front porch which jutted past Mrs. Jane’s fern-filled bay window, two steps above street level. They made up guessing games and thought of what they wanted most in the world, like high heels, a croquignole board, a lavalliere like Burnadetta’s, a visit from a relation or Bonnie Purdy. On Sundays they had Papa for a little while unless he’d been out all night with Mr. Taylor, after which he lay in bed all day, shouting to them for God’s sake to shut up. They were afraid to go to the big stone churches because here you had to wear gloves and carry a Bible or prayerbook and have patent leather slippers. Lena noticed these religious rules and decreed that they must not try to break them, even though there was a Membership Campaign on at the East Park Presbyterian Church, and Burnadetta herself had asked them to sign up on her team (“the Blues”) so that she could win a star.

“You have to give a dime there,” Lena disclosed gloomily to Marcia. “Even the juveniles can’t give pennies.”

At least Papa was home on Sundays, so they could sing; that was a comfort. But here was Mr. Taylor ruining their one day by suggesting that Papa leave, and that they “go play.”