"I make my own evaluations of people. Let's simply begin with your entrance this morning. Mrs. Logan introduced you properly to me. A young person is always introduced to an older person, but you don't say 'Hi.' The very least you say, is simply 'Hello.' This is acceptable in any situation except, of course, after a very formal introduction. We had a somewhat formal introduction. You should have said, 'Hello, Miss Burton, I'm glad to meet you,' or 'How do you do, Miss Burton.' Furthermore, a formal verbal greeting should be accompanied by direct eye contact, which indicates that you are actually paying attention to the person you are acknowledging. You let your eyes wander to Mrs. Logan, the room, me, Mrs. Logan, back to me again," she lectured. "Should I continue?" she asked.
"I guess," I said, feeling a tight knot form in my stomach.
"An older person extends his or her hand first to a younger one, as I just did, but you don't take someone's hand limply as if yours is boneless or as if you're grasping an empty glove. Of course, you don't squeeze too hard, but you should be firm and you should look the person directly in the eyes when you shake.
"Next," she continued without skipping a beat, "is your dreadful posture. A person who stands erect and sits erect looks best, looks confident, looks like someone of worth. Rounded shoulders, slouching, folding your arms across your body as you are now doing . . . all this shows your sloppiness and lack of refinement immediately. Your shoulders should be back, chin in and slightly up, abdomen and stomach in, back straight and knees relaxed. You may keep your arms at your sides, relaxed, as well. Now, let me see you take that seat," she said nodding toward the overstuffed chair to my left.
I eyed it like a challenge of great proportions, positive that whatever I did would be wrong. Nevertheless, I stepped up to the chair, turned, looked directly at her and sat. She laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"You don't really sit like that. You would never be so stiff, nor do you flop into a chair. Sit softly and keep your knees together," she added, nodding at my legs. "The only people who want a view of your undergarments are degenerates. You should sit a bit sideways to keep from sprawling into the chair."
"These pillows are so soft that I--"
"More reason to be aware of your posture and how you appear to others in the room."
"I don't think I look especially sloppy," I protested.
"You don't look sloppy, but you don't look like a young woman of refinement, a woman of quality, stature, a woman who would attract someone of like ilk," she insisted. "You are part of a very
distinguished family now. You have a responsibility to be distinguished yourself, and sitting in a chair with your knees wide enough apart to drive a truck between them, slouching when you stand, moving in jerky motions, gawking, all of that makes you look more like someone brought up by uneducated, unsophisticated people of low quality."
"That's not true. I was brought up by good people, decent people who cared about other people and--"
&nbs
p; "Then why don't you try to make them proud of you, proud of what you can become and proud of who you now are?" she retorted before I could continue my protest.
I swallowed back my pride and indignation.
"I will be only as good a teacher as you permit me to be and you will be only as good a student as you allow yourself to be. Shall we begin or for the next hour would you rather we debate whether you need my help or not?" she asked firmly, never relaxing her proper posture or letting any warmth into her cold brown eyes.
"I'll try," I finally said, breathing deeply, determined not to cry.
"Good. Then let's begin. Walk out and walk in again, pretending we are meeting for the first time. Keep thinking about your posture as you enter the room."
I rose and left the parlor. For a moment I was tempted to rush out the front door. Then I gazed down the corridor and saw Grandma Olivia watching me. I knew the satisfaction she would get from seeing me flee. She would just nod and say she knew I didn't have it in me to rise to her level. Furious at the thought of her ridicule, I pulled back my shoulders, held my head high, and returned to the parlor.
Miss Burton offered her hand and I shook it firmly and said, "Hello, Miss Burton. I'm pleased to meet you."
She smiled and nodded toward the chair. I sat as she had instructed and placed my hands in my lap.
"Very good," she said. "We'll make a lady of you yet."
"I think being a lady comes from more than knowing how to say hello," I told her.
"Of course it does my dear. The guiding principle of etiquette is thoughtfulness. There are ten commandments of everyday behavior. Never," she began, wagging her long, thin and bony forefinger at me, "talk only about yourself, never gossip, never ask personal questions or pry, never intentionally embarrass anyone, never stare or point at someone, never chew gum with an open mouth or snap it, or make bubbles, never display affection in public," she said, pausing for breath. "From what I understand, that's a commandment you young people today violate often."
"I don't," I protested.
She shook her head.
"You must become your own best critic and to do that, you must not lie, especially to yourself. That's what happens when you lie to others; you end up lying to yourself."
"But --"
"Didn't you kiss someone right out here in this driveway recently?" she asked.