A Father's Gentle Defense — Alice Adams

Mr. Adams, restless at noon, asks for Alice and learns she walked two miles to discover what Mildred Palmer will wear tonight, a ritual he cannot fathom though he accepts it as female jargon. When Alice returns, mother and daughter decode Mildred's likely maize Georgette while Adams listens like a boy enduring sermon. He summons Alice, asks her to forbid thinking, then quietly defends his life at Lamb and Company: steady raises, head of sundries, respect as their oldest stand-by, pleasant colleagues, and willingness to hire Walter. He admits the work is not grand, but it is not the failure his wife calls a hole, and her disappointment wounds him more than the job ever has. Alice, moved, embraces him and regrets repeating the insult. She vows to tell her mother to stop. Across the hall, however, Mrs. Adams reframes the talk as proof he needs waking up, arguing that prices, expectations, and Alice's youth demand more than bare food and shelter. When Alice admits the pressure is mostly for her extravagance, her mother pivots to orchids, limousines, and what other girls enjoy. Guilt yields to business: Alice asks for a relined white organdie and proposes they never mention the job again, a promise already undermined by the dress labor waiting on the bed.