The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton by Jane Smiley Page B

Annabelle turned to me and spoke. "Now, have you ever been on one of these packets before, my dear?"
    "No, ma’am. This is my first trip away from Quincy."
    "Well, if you expect to have your dinner, then you’d better get ready for when the doors open, or the menfolk will push you right out of the way. The ladies are supposed to go to the head of the line, but you can’t be sure what will happen."
    "I’m sure my husband ..." I said the word as if I were used to it.
    "Oh, dear," said the other one. "You can’t rely on him. We five will all go out in a body and into the dining room, and they’ll make way for us. That’s the best way."
    "They don’t mean to," said Annabelle, "but there’s just such a rush for the vittles that a lone woman don’t stand much of a chance. Wouldn’t you say so, Dorothea?"
    Dorothea nodded, and the little girl pressed into her mother’s skirts. Annabelle said, "What’s your name, dear?" to me, and I said, "Lidie. Lidie Newton now."
    "Here we go," said Dorothea. "Take each other’s arms, ladies, that’s the best. If your skirts drag a little, so be it." We took each other’s arms, with the little girl clinging to her mother’s waist, and we pressed as a group out onto the deck, just as the door to the dining room opened. All around us, male figures in black coats and hats and boots jumped up, but Dorothea and Annabelle smiled, stared straight ahead, and strode forward at a brisk clip. We others stuck to them, and the men fell back around us. We nearly gained the door. Only then was there a little pushing and shoving, but we kept smiling, and Annabelle lifted her voice in firm command: "Mind the ladies! Mind the ladies!" In a moment we were through. Annabelle and Dorothea shepherded us to a place at the long table, somewhat back from the entry, where I noticed that the dishes were quite plentiful. I looked around for Mr. Newton, but he hadn’t made it in yet. I was wondering whether to wait for him, when Dorothea said, "Sit down, Mrs. Newton. Sit down and eat, or you’ll not get a thing!" And it was true; all around us, men were jerking out the chairs, throwing themselves down, and ladling all manner of comestibles onto their plates, one thing on top of another. I sat down.
    Near me was some bread, some salt pork, some pickles, another meat dish of some kind, some boiled potatoes, a dish of applesauce, and some johnnycake. I did as the others did and piled it all on my plate, taking as much as I was likely to want, because already the dishes and bowls were beginning to empty. Down the table I saw a dish of sliced cucumber in vinegar, which I liked very much, but there was no one to pass it, and even as I watched, wondering how to get some, a boy about Frank’s age served himself almost every slice on the plate. I started to eat what I had. What noise there was in the room was entirely made up of the clatter of china and utensils, the scraping of chairs, the moist sound of mastication, the rustle of wool and calico. There were some twenty people in the room, and at last I espied Mr. Newton, at the far end of the table, looking around for me. He had a slice of ham on his plate, and that was it. As he was reaching for some bread, the man next to him took the last piece right out from under his fingertips. "Eat! Eat!" exclaimed Annabelle. "The porters will take your plate away!"
    I did as I was told and found myself doing what all the others were doing: shoveling my victuals in by the forkful, hardly chewing, and certainly not enjoying myself. Before I was half done, the men around us began to wipe their plates with their corn bread, push back their chairs, and leave the table. Mr. Newton caught sight of me and raised his hand with a smile, and I thought that it was a fine thing after all to see him from a distance. He had a grace and a reserve that the men around him had none of. At Saint Louis, our plan was to stay one night at a hotel near the landing, called the Vandeventer House. As