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took this extraordinary piece of information in their stride.
    â€˜Wasn’t she one of the Henderson twins, the ones with red hayer and all those unsightly freckles?’
    â€˜Yes, and their cousin married the Breverton man and then shot him,’ said Miz Marigold.
    â€˜A most unsatisfactory family,’ said Miz Magnolia. ‘I’ll go and get the tea.’
    She reappeared in a moment bearing a large silver tray on which reposed a gigantic silver teapot, delicate china cups and two silver dishes, one containing ice cubes and the other sliced lemon.
    â€˜There’s nothing like tea on a hot day like this,’ said Miz Magnolia, putting lemon and ice cubes into a cup and handing it to me. I took it, wondering why all the ladies were watching me with an air of expectancy. I raised the cup to my lips, took a sip and choked. The cup contained straight bourbon.
    â€˜Is it to your liking?’ asked Miz Magnolia.
    â€˜Excellent,’ I said. ‘I take it that Fred didn’t make it.’
    â€˜Oh, no,’ said Miz Magnolia, smiling, ‘I always make the tea mahself. It saves trouble, yew know.’
    â€˜Mah pappy always say-ed to me that cold tea helped the flesh,’ said Miz Marigold, somewhat mysteriously.
    â€˜Little Miz Lillibut — you remember she was married to Hubert Crumb, one of those Crumbs from Mississippi, who were related by marriage to the Ostlers,’ said Miz Melancholy, ‘well, she always washed her face in iced tea and she had a complexion like a peach, a veritable peach.’
    â€˜Miz Ruby Mackintosh — she was one of the Scottish Mackintoshes that came over from Scotland and married into the Mackinnon family, and old man Mackinnon was such a bully he drove his wife into the grave — she was a Tenderson girl, whose mother was an Outgrabe from Minnesota — well Miz Ruby always say-ed that there was nothing like cream and pecan oil for the skin,’ said Miz Marigold.
    â€˜Weren’t the Mackintoshes related to the Quinsers?’ asked Miz Magnolia.
    â€˜Yes, Miz Ruby’s uncle married a Quinser, the one with the fallen arches and a figger like a sack of sweet potatoes,’ said Miz Melancholy.
    I decided to cut across this genealogical reverie.
    â€˜Miz Melancholy,’ I said, ‘you have such an attractive name. How did you come by it?’
    She looked at me, puzzled.
    â€˜Baptism,’ she said at last.
    â€˜But who chose your name?’ I asked.
    â€˜Mah father,’ she said. ‘You see, he wanted a boy.’
    Another hour went by in a haze of bourbon and a patchwork of names and families. Finally, the ladies rose to take their unsteady departure.
    â€˜Well,’ said Miz Magnolia, when they had vanished in a flurry of kisses and ‘loved seeing yew’. ‘I’m going to come up and see your room.’
    â€˜But my room’s fine,’ I protested. ‘It’s absolutely wonderful.’
    â€˜I like to check things for mahself,’ said Miz Magnolia ominously. ‘Now Fred’s turned eighty-nine he’s not as observant as he used to be.’
    â€˜Eighty-nine?’ I asked incredulously.
    â€˜Certainly is,’ said Miz Magnolia, starting up the stairs. ‘He’ll be ninety on December 22nd.’
    Before I could comment on this, the gentleman in the velvet dressing gown appeared at the head of the stairs waving a large and extremely sharp-looking sabre.
    They’re burning Atlanta,’ he shouted.
    â€˜Mercy me,’ said Miz Magnolia, ‘he has been watching that darned video of Gone with the Wind again. I wish Cousin Cuthbert hadn’t given it to him at Christmas.’
    â€˜They’ll be hayer any minute,’ shouted the man with the sabre.
    â€˜Can I introduce you to Great Uncle Rochester,’ said Miz Magnolia.
    â€˜Have you buried the silver?’ asked Great Uncle Rochester. ‘There’s not much time.’
    I