incessantly seeking their advice and offering to take them places
around town. She was far more sophisticated in her bringing up than they were, but, as
Lavinia pointed out, she was the sort of unfortunate girl whose own mother never gets
over her disappointment in what she has produced. There had been the nanny all the way
from England, and now a boarding school in Des Peres. One night, while they were
undressing for bed in the big house on Kingshighway, Lavinia remarked, "You girls can't
know how short your lives have been. From the mother's point of view, first there is the
infant, then, almost immediately, there's the young woman. That's how it seems." She
lowered her voice, though they were sitting by the fireplace in their own set of rooms, the
door shut and everyone else gone to bed. "When a lady's first concern is to preserve
herself unchanged by the passage of time, it may be that the easier course is to simply
forget the girl exists."
But Mrs. Bell was kind to Margaret and Elizabeth, inviting them to stay for a
month in the winter, and taking a special interest in Elizabeth. She and Elizabeth were the
same height and built in a similar way, and one of Mrs. Bell's fancies was to dress
Elizabeth in her own old clothes, and to give certain pieces to her, on the understanding
that Elizabeth would use her skills to remake these dresses and coats, preserving the fine
goods but updating the style. John Gentry said, "Does she think the girl is going to have
to sew for her living?" But Mrs. Bell acted more as if Elizabeth were her own sister than
the sister of her son's wife. The goods were beautiful, and Mrs. Bell, as befitted a St.
Louis society woman, had hardly put any wear into them.
JOHN G ENTRY died in a condition of some satisfaction. He was almost
seventy-six. At the funeral, the minister said, "John Gentry entered the state of Missouri
riding in the back of a wagon. A son of the South, he proved himself a patriot to the
larger nation, and he earned the respect of both sides." ("Well, he did that with his
shotgun," whispered Lavinia.) "He took care of his slaves and, after that, his servants and
his workmen, his mules, his acres and his horses and his daughters, and his
granddaughters. He sustained his connections with friends and relations on both sides of
the conflict, and the same cannot be said for every Missourian of those days. In doing all
of these things, he took good care of his soul. And so"--the minister sucked in a deep
breath and lifted his eyes above those assembled in the pews--"we plan to meet John
Gentry up yonder, where no doubt he has already been put in charge of something." The
congregation laughed and nodded, and afterward, many said of John Gentry that he was a
generous man. To Margaret, his life seemed complete and all of a piece. The world had
swirled around him, but he had done as he pleased and remained as evidently himself as a
tree might, or a stone might. Lavinia and her sisters kept pronouncing his eulogy: "Well,
Papa was always Papa, I'll say that for him."
Robert Bell took over the farm. What happened was entirely practical--Lavinia's
sisters all had lives of their own, in Hermann, Chicago, and West Branch, Iowa. The farm
would not be sold or broken up, everyone agreed (either land prices were low and certain
to rise, or they were high and destined to go higher--Margaret didn't know which), and,
furthermore, such a farm would virtually run itself, so efficient was the operation John
Gentry had set in place. Therefore, Robert and Beatrice with their two little boys,
Lawrence and Elliott, who had followed hard on the heels of the marriage, would live on
the farm, being seen to by Alice. Lavinia, Elizabeth, and Margaret would move into the
house in Darlington. Once installed there, Margaret understood without its being said that
she was to parade herself, the blooming Elizabeth in tow, up and down Front Street,
executing errands at the
around town. She was far more sophisticated in her bringing up than they were, but, as
Lavinia pointed out, she was the sort of unfortunate girl whose own mother never gets
over her disappointment in what she has produced. There had been the nanny all the way
from England, and now a boarding school in Des Peres. One night, while they were
undressing for bed in the big house on Kingshighway, Lavinia remarked, "You girls can't
know how short your lives have been. From the mother's point of view, first there is the
infant, then, almost immediately, there's the young woman. That's how it seems." She
lowered her voice, though they were sitting by the fireplace in their own set of rooms, the
door shut and everyone else gone to bed. "When a lady's first concern is to preserve
herself unchanged by the passage of time, it may be that the easier course is to simply
forget the girl exists."
But Mrs. Bell was kind to Margaret and Elizabeth, inviting them to stay for a
month in the winter, and taking a special interest in Elizabeth. She and Elizabeth were the
same height and built in a similar way, and one of Mrs. Bell's fancies was to dress
Elizabeth in her own old clothes, and to give certain pieces to her, on the understanding
that Elizabeth would use her skills to remake these dresses and coats, preserving the fine
goods but updating the style. John Gentry said, "Does she think the girl is going to have
to sew for her living?" But Mrs. Bell acted more as if Elizabeth were her own sister than
the sister of her son's wife. The goods were beautiful, and Mrs. Bell, as befitted a St.
Louis society woman, had hardly put any wear into them.
JOHN G ENTRY died in a condition of some satisfaction. He was almost
seventy-six. At the funeral, the minister said, "John Gentry entered the state of Missouri
riding in the back of a wagon. A son of the South, he proved himself a patriot to the
larger nation, and he earned the respect of both sides." ("Well, he did that with his
shotgun," whispered Lavinia.) "He took care of his slaves and, after that, his servants and
his workmen, his mules, his acres and his horses and his daughters, and his
granddaughters. He sustained his connections with friends and relations on both sides of
the conflict, and the same cannot be said for every Missourian of those days. In doing all
of these things, he took good care of his soul. And so"--the minister sucked in a deep
breath and lifted his eyes above those assembled in the pews--"we plan to meet John
Gentry up yonder, where no doubt he has already been put in charge of something." The
congregation laughed and nodded, and afterward, many said of John Gentry that he was a
generous man. To Margaret, his life seemed complete and all of a piece. The world had
swirled around him, but he had done as he pleased and remained as evidently himself as a
tree might, or a stone might. Lavinia and her sisters kept pronouncing his eulogy: "Well,
Papa was always Papa, I'll say that for him."
Robert Bell took over the farm. What happened was entirely practical--Lavinia's
sisters all had lives of their own, in Hermann, Chicago, and West Branch, Iowa. The farm
would not be sold or broken up, everyone agreed (either land prices were low and certain
to rise, or they were high and destined to go higher--Margaret didn't know which), and,
furthermore, such a farm would virtually run itself, so efficient was the operation John
Gentry had set in place. Therefore, Robert and Beatrice with their two little boys,
Lawrence and Elliott, who had followed hard on the heels of the marriage, would live on
the farm, being seen to by Alice. Lavinia, Elizabeth, and Margaret would move into the
house in Darlington. Once installed there, Margaret understood without its being said that
she was to parade herself, the blooming Elizabeth in tow, up and down Front Street,
executing errands at the
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