“Now you can wear the skirt,” Andi heard her husband say when they were back in their room getting ready to go to the next Uncle. “Uncle Farsten is navy, and much more flexible.

“Well, but, I don’t want to… I mean… I want to dress in a way that they will find acceptable.”

He looked at her, “That’s what I said. They won’t mind. Half the lasses might be in just a skirt.”

That was different. That’s not what he had said the first time at all.

She gratefully put her skirt on. She really liked this skirt, actually. And hated wearing blouses.

But she regretted her decision the second they walked out of the room. The lad that had sat next to her at dinner and breakfast was there, along with his older sister, and they both looked at her with wide eyes. She hated this. At home she knew what was expected, knew how to dress, knew how to eat…

Her husband seemed clueless and led them down and through the various hugs and kisses and out the bottom stairs with a cheerful step.

“Well, my love, we have all day,” he said. “I asked my cousin to bring our bags over to Farsten’s, so we don’t have to worry about that. What shall we do? Swimming?”

“No, thank you,” she said, hurriedly. He obviously hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t put swimming among her accomplishments. “I really liked it when we visited that art gallery,” she said.

“Well, I wonder where we can find something like that around here?”

“Let’s just wander and see what we find.”

The day had gone so wonderfully that she had almost forgotten about her dress code by the time the evening rolled around and her husband said, “Well, we are almost at my uncle Farsten’s house. We had best find something to eat.”

“We’re not going to eat dinner with them?”

“Oh, no. My poor dear, no. I love my aunt, uncle farsten’s wife, and I love all of their lasses dearly. And Uncle Farsten is my favorite uncle. But you always eat before going to their house. His wife comes from the street class, and from Xenia, a city, well, a large town, up near the mountains. Their landowners all grow these hot peppers there, and she grew up with them. So her food is inedible.”

Andi laughed, “I might manage it,” she said, “we ate a lot of hot peppers.”

“Well, she’s sure to offer you some food,” he said, “but I want to make sure I can refuse gracefully. Do you like peanut sticks?”

She looked where he was pointing. A woman sat at a grill, with a dozen or so wooden sticks roasting in front of her. Long strips of meat pounded with peanut and spices, then grilled, and constantly oiled.

“This is my job,” she said, and swaggered over to the woman, a grin on her face, feeling her husband’s eyes on her. But she knew how to do this.

‘Mother,” she said, sitting on the stool across from the woman. “I am hungry but poor.”

The woman smiled, “Daughter,” she said, “that is a bad combination. When one is hungry, it is best to have money.”

“How much money?” Andi asked.

“How hungry?” the woman countered.

“I am hungry enough to eat all twelve,” Andi said, but I only have pence.

“For pence, you can have one,” the woman countered.

“Ah, my Mother, you mock me. Surely for pence I can have at least eight.”

“Pence might get you four,” the woman said.

“Ah, mother,” Andi replied, “I am poor, but my new husband is rich. For tuppence we will take eight, as you have said. But surely there is sauce to go with them?”

“Surely there is,” the woman said, “And since you are on your honey trip I will give it to you and your starving husband for free.”

“Ketzah to celebrate!” Andi heard, as a nearby lass had heard the exchange and was dancing around Andi’s husband, her hands out.

So Andi paid for and received the peanut sticks and sauce, while her husband distributed largess to such an extent it cost more than she had paid. And then a nearby drummer decided to honor them with a honey tune and soon the crowd was singing

What the lad proposed the lass accepted, oh, tally, oh.

What the lass proposed the lad accepted, oh, tally, oh

At the lasses house the lad did sign it, oh, tally, oh

At the lasses house the lass did sign it, oh, tally, oh

The lad held out his hand all sweaty, oh, tally, oh

The lass took up the hand all sweaty, oh, tally, oh

The lass got tired of only walking, oh, tally, oh

The lad got tired of only walking, oh, tally, oh

The lad proposed some nearby bushes, oh, tally, oh…

… a ribald song which got more explicit as it went on and gathered an ever louder singing crowd, made her husband blush, and cost them another tuppence in tips.

Andi walked along, eating and grinning. This was life she understood. Of course, there had been not a few shop class in that crowd too, all of them grinning and some of them whistling. The sticks were very well done, and the sauce a nice mixture of honey and spices.

“Cousin! Cousin!” she heard, and turned to see a lass running up to them and launch herself into her husband’s arms.

“Cousine!” her husband said, laughing, “You’ll be all over honey if you aren’t careful.”

Andi grabbed her husband’s sticks and sauce while the lass hugged him. “I was hoping you would come this way,” she said. “I waited and waited.”

“Well, we did,” her husband said. “Now, cousine, this is my new wife, and your newest cousine.”

The little lass looked at her critically, “She doesn’t have a blouse on,” she said.

“And why should she?” her husband replied, “It’s a fine day and we’re on our honey trip.”

Andi reddened. She knew she should have dressed up! Even this little lass knew as much. But there was no help for it now…

“Cousin brought your bags hours ago,” the lass accused her husband.

“We are on our honey trip,” he said. “We are not here just to visit you lot!”

The lass giggled and, holding her husband’s hand, pulled her forward to a house not far down the street, another shop class house but of a very different style… much more wood between the stones and painted a kind of garish orange. Altho it did go with the houses around it. And there was no waiting at the door and bowing and courtseys, the cousine drug them in and up the stairs all in a rush.

“You’re here,” a woman said, coming out of a kitchen and speaking loudly and in a rather dramatic accent that Andi hadn’t heard before. She came and kissed, and hugged, and two other lasses came and kissed and hugged.

Andi was then pulled to a study, where an older man came forward and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. Ready for some games?” he asked her husband, who grinned.

The man led them out and down a hall to a dining room, where he and her husband got busy discussing which came they should play. Andi heard feet and turned around to see the two other lasses coming back… having obviously quickly removed their own blouses. No doubt they wanted her to feel more at home. Her ears burned at the faux pas she was making.

“Rabbit ears!” one of the lasses shouted, when she heard her father and her cousin discussing what game to play. She whirled on Andi, “You’ll play Rabbit Ears with us?”

“Umm, I’ve never…”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” her husband said, and it seemed that was settled. More and more lasses came in and they took up one end of the table. The game turned out to be rather simple, involving lots of pieces making up differerent parts of rabbits.

She spared a glance for her husband, who sat with his uncle at the other end of the table getting out some cards out of a rather large set and laying them out on the table.

Just then the woman came back in, having removed her own blouse, with a large tray of finger foods. “Our nephew, he does not like my cooking,” she said, “So don’t feel bad if…”

“Pepper wrapped crevetes!” Andi cried, reaching out, “These are my favorite. And is this yellow picante sauce?”

“Yes, it is,” the wife said, grinning. She set the tray down and Andi took a crevette and dipped it in.

“Wonderful,” she said. And it was.

“Get her something to drink,” the mother said, and one of the lasses darted off.

“Oh, these are wonderful,” Andi said, again.

“It’s your turn!” another lass said, and Andi turned back to the game.

“Well?” her husband asked, as he undressed.

“Oh, they are wonderful!” she said.

“And you ate her food!” he said.

“It was wonderful. My mother doesn’t cook that spicy, but lots of my friends mothers do… or nearly so… and they were very well done.”

“Well, she is going to love you, then. And the lasses really took to you. It was so nice of you, playing that game with them.”

“Oh, I liked the game. It was a little bit littlie… but I wouldn’t have wanted to be in your game. Way to much calculation.”

“I love thee,” he said, coming over to her.

“And I love thee,” she said, leaning into his caress.

—

The next morning her husband frowned as she pulled on her blouse, but he didn’t comment, instead holding out his hand once it was on and in place. She was not going to be embarrassed again! Those poor lasses running off to change because of how she showed up!

Or so she thought. When she arrived at the breakfast table she was literally the only one with a blouse on. Literally the only one. “We just came from Borron’s,” her husband explained, as the family looked at her and three of the cousines grinned. “You know they all dress up at breakfast.”

“Not when they visit us. Not the lasses, anyway.” the oldest cousine said. “Eggs or porridge?” she asked Andi.

“Ummm,” Andi temporized, her eyes quickly scanning the plates of the others. But it seemed half and half. “Eggs please.”

“How do you want them?” the lass asked, getting up.

“Ummm, poached?”

The lass nodded. “On buttered toast?”

“Yes, please,” Andi said, and sat down next to her husband who was ladling himself porridge.

“So how has your honey trip been so far, Dear?” her new aunt asked her.

“Oh, wonderful.”

“We saw Franklin at church, Aunt,” her husband said, and she flushed. Telling everyone they had been to church on their honey trip!

“Really? Is he still involved in that low church?”

“As low as they come. Loud Psalm singing, various testimonies. We got prayed for from the pulpit.”

Several of the smaller cousines’ eyes opened wide at this, but her husband plowed on. ‘I don’t think he saw us, though. The room was packed.”

“It often is in low church,” the aunt agreed. I think it is part of the ambiance. Now, seriously dear, you don’t need to dress up for us!”

Andi blushed. “Well, after yesterday…”

“Yesterday?” the mother asked, and then her eyes lit up, “Oh, dear… we dressed up for you! We didn’t want to dress like that, we just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. So when we saw that you were dressed casually…”

“But… but my little cousine there, when she met us on the street, she was shocked I was wearing a blouse!”

“Well, of course she was, dear… since I’d had to yell at her and force her to put on a shirt to meet you! I said you might not be confortable being casual, and so if we were all wearing shirts then you would feel more comfortable…”

Andi laughed until she choked. “Oh, dear, and here I thought that I was coming over all street class.”

“Don’t you worry about it, dear. You are going to be spending the the next twenty years on the field. You are going to have to adjust to army life… which might be a lot less of an adjustment for you than for for your poor bookish husband.”

Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!

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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,

Von