The Watchmaker's Ball
“Stand straight, Alice. Slouching isn’t proper for a lady.”
“I’m not a lady,” Alice grumbled. She didn’t know how her posture could be less than poker-straight, considering the amount of muscle that had gone into lacing her corset. She dragged her feet as she followed her mother and older sister across Fairmount Park, through the crowds, and toward her doom.
“Alice Elizabeth Purcell, I won’t talk to you again. Keep
Alice tried not to roll her eyes and trudged on. Ever since her older sister, Katharine, had talked to that boy at the bookshop, she had been begging their mother to take them to the Centennial Exposition. So here Alice was, on her way to an afternoon of torture and utter despair.
The Women’s Pavilion.
Alice had come along hoping she would get to glimpse the amazing machines on display in the Machinery Hall, but they were on the other side of the fairgrounds. She had begged her mother to let her go see it, but her mother had forbidden it.