And accent it, she did.
Sophrona pinned the seams of a plain prim white gown narrowly against Esme's thighs. "The straightness will emphasize the length of your legs," she said. "And you are so lucky, this is absolutely the latest style. No woman in the city will be more up-to-date."
The only real argument Sophrona received was from Esme's father.
"I look like I'm about to be buried!" the old man complained of the fine broadcloth suit of dignified black.
"Pa!" Esme snapped waspishly. "I won't have you looking like you just stepped out of a cave."
Yohan raised his chin defiantly. "Well, Esme-girl," he said, "the fact is, I did just step out of a cave, not more than a month ago. I'm a poor, simple man and trying to look like anything else is the same as lying."
"Pa!"
Sophrona quickly intervened in the threatened father-daughter fireworks.
"Surely it is not a lie to show yourself as a sober and attractive man of middle years," the pretty redhead suggested.
Yo Crabb immediately puffed up as proud as a bantam rooster. Smoothing down the perfectly cut lapels, he asked, "You don't think I'm reaching beyond myself?"
"Indeed not," Sophrona insisted. "Sackcloth and ashes doesn't make one humble. Humility comes from the heart."
Yohan pursed his lips, thoughtfully considering her words before finally nodding. "I suspect you're right, Miss Sophrona."
Esme marveled at Sophrona's ability to maneuver her family. Assuming that such ability was part of being a lady, Esme could hardly wait for the conduct portion of Sophrona's lessons.
Now sitting at the table with her family and Mrs. Rhy, who was observing the lesson skeptically, Esme decided that it was not as easy to act like a lady as it was to look like one.
"The important thing," Sophrona stated firmly, "is to make everyone at the table feel comfortable and relaxed."
"That shouldn't be too difficult," Esme stated. "Why, fancy northern gentlemen like these probably always feel at home."
"Not necessarily," Sophrona told her. "Everyone feels out of place at times. Tennessee is a completely new world for these men. They are strangers here, and you'll have to do whatever you can to make them feel welcome."
"Welcome is one thing," Esme said. "But they're going to be here near to ten days. We've only got the first one planned."
Nodding with agreement, Sophrona took her hand encouragingly. "Making a good first impression is all that's really important," she said. "The men are here to meet Cleavis and discuss those horrid fish after all."
The twins giggled.
"Once the gentlemen are favorably impressed by your home and your lifestyle," she said, "they will relax and fit right in."
Esme worried the nail on her index finger with her front teeth. "But just how am I going to 'favorably impress' them?"
"You won't be alone," Sophrona assured her. "Your entire family will be here to help."
Esme looked around the table. The twins were like fancy meringue, pretty and inviting, but with nearly no substance at all. Pa was just Pa. A fiddle-playing ne'er-do-well who was almost proud of being the "laziest man in Vader, Tennessee."
Looking back at Sophrona with desperation in her eyes, Esme entreated, "Teach us!"
Glancing around the table, Sophrona cleared her throat and began. "The most important thing about gentility is fine conversation."
"You mean just talking?" Pa asked skeptically. "I suspect we can all manage that."
"Fine conversation," Sophrona corrected, "is not the same as simply speaking to another person."
"It's talking prissy like Cleav," Esme suggested.
Sophrona was unable to stifle a giggle. "No, no," she said. "It's not the way you talk. It's the things that you say."
