“Mrs. Edgerton,” I says, “you must understand I have not got no good clothes for such a party—”
“Pray,” she says, “don’t give a thought to that. This is to be an intellectual and political occasion and you may wear your street dress that my husband has bought you,” she says, “and I will wear the same kind that he has bought me.”
And so then she sweeps out and leaves Mrs. Budd and I to spend the rest of the night talking it over. And gee Mom when I thought about her I had made up my mind that I would count it a victory if I got off without a bullet in me and here now I have got another free dinner coming!
Your delighted
Mame.
LETTER XII
IN WHICH I MISS HALF A DINNER
Dear Mom:
I have just got back from Mrs. Edgerton’s party and I have sure got some news now.
How I did wished I could of had you here to advise with. The best guess I could make was that Mrs. Edgerton was figuring to show her husband the difference between a real lady and a manicure girl but Mrs. Budd she says “Maybe she really wants to know you because why,” she says, “if a woman’s husband is got to talk about politics with manicure girls any wife would rather it was where she could be around.” But I think Mrs. Budd must of been impressed by that squirrel-skin coat for of course any landlady will trust you more if you have got a thing like that on.