From 8-year old Hilda’s diary:

This is Saturday, but there will be no more dancing school until Alma comes back because no one likes to take me, not even Grandfather. This afternoon Grandmother is taking me calling. I am to wear my new blue and white checked silk dress and my Milan hat with pink roses on it and patent leather slippers and white gloves. I am to speak only when I am spoken to and not ask for anything even to go to the bathroom, and if we have tea I am to take only one tiny piece of cake even if the hostess begs me to take more. I asked Grandmother if the hostess didn’t really mean for us to take more and Grandmother said that the hostess means it but no one really does, so everyone goes on coaxing everyone to eat more and no one does. I asked if that wasn’t a little bit like lying and Grandmother got nervous and yelled, “Stop it, I can’t stand anymore of your stupid questions.”