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glances. Sue’s blushed-on cheeks deepened in color. Jenny knew she was staring and was unable to stop.
    From the grown-ups’ table one of the two pale blue persons—Harry, it was—boomed out, “Your daughter reminds me of Alice in Wonderland.” Everyone turned to look. There was no doubt which daughter Harry had in mind.
    Jenny began her fart barrage. Mary said in a loud voice, almost a shout, “Who? What?” to drown her out.
    â€œYou know, Alice in Wonderland. Through the Looking Glass. Down the Rabbit Hole.”
    Mary blushed, but Jenny kept it up, surpassing her previous performances.
    The cousins, momentarily nonplussed, turned to each other. “Alice who?” they asked.
    â€œIt’s all the telly these days, isn’t it?” Harry chortled. “Kids don’t read anymore nowadays, do they?”
    Jenny pretended she had something caught in her throat and made a big to-do of choking to death. Mary pounded her vigorously on the back, smiling tightly. “Are you all right, Jen?” their father said.
    â€œHow about another piece of chicken?” Mr. Clay asked, brandishing his serving fork.
    â€œOh, I simply couldn’t!” Willie cried. “It was simply delicious, though, George. You must give me your recipe.”
    â€œWell, first you brown your parts,” George began.
    â€œWill you get the salad, please, Susan,” Mrs. Clay said. Sue left the table, and the blonder of the two cousins said, “How old are you, anyway?”
    â€œFourteen,” Mary lied sedately, grateful for Sue’s absence. She wouldn’t be fourteen for another nine months, so she wasn’t even thirteen and a half.
    â€œYour sister is very young for her age, isn’t she?” the other cousin said, drawing perceptibly away from Jenny, who choked some more just to show she wasn’t fooling around.
    â€œHow can you say that when you don’t know how old she is?” Mary said indignantly.
    â€œShe just seems young for her age, that’s all.” The cousins bent over their plates and continued to fight with the coq au vin. Sue returned with the salad. Mary saw Sue’s lips moving and knew she was reminding herself to “serve from the left, take away from the right.”
    â€œThen you take a truffle …” Mr. Clay doggedly pursued his recipe, although his audience had left him.
    â€œA truffle?” Willie said faintly, eyes glassy.
    They had peach shortcake for dessert.
    The cousins were cruising along the coast of Maine next week in a sailboat. “Pray that Johnny’s there!” they said, rolling their eyes. “If Johnny’s there, we hope the fog sets in. I mean, too much.”
    â€œYeah,” Jenny said, “I agree.” They looked at her from the corners of their eyes and said nothing.
    Shortly thereafter, their father looked at his watch and said he knew it wasn’t nice to eat and run but they really must be going. He was expecting a phone call, he said, and the girls had an early dentist’s appointment. The three of them lurched home, pretending they’d had too much wine.
    â€œThat wasn’t too bad, was it?” their father asked, putting his key in the lock. Sure enough, the telephone started to ring.
    â€œI thought he was making it up,” Jenny said.
    â€œYes, I’ll accept the charges.… Hello.… No, we just got in from dinner at the Clays’. How is everything?” He listened, frowning. They could hear their mother’s voice but not what she was saying.
    â€œThey’re fine,” he said at last. “They’re right here.” He held out the receiver and Mary took it while Jenny raced upstairs to talk to their mother on the extension.
    â€œDarlings, how are you?” Their mother’s voice sounded as if she were in a tunnel. “How nice of Susan’s mother to ask you all over. Was it fun? Oh, this is such an