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here, Winkie,” she called, almost reverently.
    Winkie opened the door and invited us in. “I’m so pleased you accepted our invitation, Mrs. Malloy. Kappas should be on friendly terms with their neighbors, and the girls should have invited you and your daughter to visit us years ago.”
    Her tiny living room was decorated in pink (surprise, surprise), and there was a dusty arrangement of pink silk roses on a coffee table. On the sofa was a long-haired cat; its white fur was the only relief thus far from the relentless pinkness. It gazed at me without interest, and I reciprocated in like.
    â€œMay I offer you a glass of wine?” Winkie said in a conspiratorial voice. “Alcohol is forbidden in the house, but since there are so few girls this summer, I decided it might be all right to have a little nip now and then.”
    I realized that Rebecca had faded away. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Winklebury.”
    â€œYou must call me Winkie. Sit there right by Katie and I’ll get the glasses and the decanter.” She movedout of view, but continued talking. “I do hope you were able to get to sleep last night after that minor bother. Debbie Anne never stops to think what effect her actions may have on others. We had a long talk this afternoon, and I feel confident that she’ll behave more appropriately in the future.”
    â€œDid the police officers catch the prowler?” I asked as I sat down at the opposite end of the sofa from Katie, bleakly suspecting my dark slacks would be covered with cat hair forever after. That particular kind of magnetism seems to be the tribulation borne by non–cat fanciers.
    Winkie returned with two glasses and a chipped decanter. “Is burgundy all right? I have a little chablis, but it’s old and might not be any good.” She served the wine and settled into a rocking chair, her shoes barely touching the worn pink carpet, her dress smoothed over her knees, her face crimped with pleasure in anticipation of a cozy chat. She reminded me of a child playing in her great-grandmother’s parlor. “Frankly, Claire—if I may call you that?—I doubt there was a prowler. The girl has a vivid imagination, to put it kindly, and on other occasions has disrupted the house and caused scenes.”
    â€œThat’s what Jean said last night. It’s none of my business, but why was Debbie Anne invited to join the sorority if she’s so disliked?”
    â€œIt’s unfortunate that we’re obliged to take girls who aren’t Kappa material, but it’s based on economics. We cannot afford to have vacant beds, much less vacant rooms. The budget’s so tight that we have to fill the pledge class as early in the fall as possible; the alumnae and members spend most of their summer having parties and luncheons for potential pledges. All the girls are required to live in the house for a minimum of six consecutive semesters, and we encourage them to stay here all four years.”
    â€œI’ve noticed most of the other houses are closed for the summer,” I said.
    â€œWe usually close, too, but our house corps president,Eleanor Vanderson, raised enough money for us to do some much-needed redecorating in preparation for rush and for a visit from the financial adviser from National. She’s coming in August to audit the books, and we dearly hope she can offer some suggestions to improve our situation. When I agreed to be here to supervise the workmen, the girls asked if they could stay. Two of them are taking graduate classes, and the other will be a senior. Debbie Anne’s technically a freshman and I was opposed to having her.” A dark look crossed her face, then vanished as she gave a rueful laugh. “But Eleanor determined that we needed four monthly residence fees to cover the utilities, and Debbie Anne was the only other girl in summer school.”
    â€œWell, good,” I said lamely, not at all