(1930)
Although Alfred, my father-in-law, had settled his family in one of the finest neighborhoods in Milwaukee, Richland Court in Shorewood, yet he was close about many other things. One night while I was there, Bobby, Lorin's younger brother, let us know he would not be home for supper. "Oh, good," Lorin said, "I can have his pork chop!" "I get some of it," Dede, his sister, said. It was bewildering. We always had meat left over at our house, but then we had no maid to serve it nor a beautiful house that was displayed in an architect's magazine to serve it in.
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