Page 6

"How you behave here while you are under my wing," she explained.

"What else did my grandmother write?"

"That's confidential," she said as she folded the letter. She stuffed it back into the envelope and returned it to where she kept it under her skirt.

"But it's information about me!" I protested.

"That's not the point. Don't be argumentative," she said before I could respond any further. "Now then," she concluded, "since you do have this unfortunate past history, I'm afraid I'm going to have to consider you under probation."

"Under probation? But I've just arrived and I haven't done anything wrong."

"Nevertheless, it's a precaution I must take. You must not violate a single rule," she warned me, shaking her long forefinger. "No one stays out later than ten P.M. on weekdays and no later than midnight on weekends, and only when I know where he or she is going.

"Excessive noise is not permitted ever. And no one is ever to be messy or in any way damage or vandalize my home. You understand that while you are here, you are a guest in my house, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said softly. "But since the letter from my grandmother was about me, can't you tell me what else she said?"

Before she could reply, a plump, round-faced woman with blue-gray hair and friendly eyes, who stood no more than five feet tall, arrived carrying a tray with a sandwich and a cup of tea. She had roller-pin arms and small hands with pudgy fingers and she wore a light blue dress with a yellow flowered apron over it. I felt warmth and friendliness in her smile immediately.

"So this is our new Sarah Bernhardt, is it?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Liddy. Our new prima donna," Agnes said and twisted her mouth up into her cheek. "Dawn, this is Mrs. Liddy. She's the one who really runs the house. You are to listen to her the same as you would listen to me. I will not tolerate anyone being nasty to Mrs. Liddy," she emphasized.

"Oh, I don't think this one will be anything but nice, Mrs. Morris. Hello, m'dear." She put the tray on the coffee table and stood back with her hands on her hips. "And welcome."

"Thank you."

"Pretty one," Mrs. Liddy said to Agnes.

"Yes, but the pretty ones are often the ones who get into the most difficulty," Agnes snapped.

With both of them staring at me, I felt as if I were encased in glass just like the theater artifacts.

"Well, m'dear," Mrs. Liddy said, "I'm in the kitchen most of the morning. If there's anything you need, you can come see me there. We like everyone to have his or her bed turned down by ten at the latest on weekends and once a week we do a thorough sweep of the house. Everyone helps."

"Yes," Agnes said, cutting her eyes toward me. "We all work here. The girls tie their hair up, slap on the oldest blouse and skirt, and roll up their sleeves, just like the boys. Windows are washed, bathrooms scrubbed down. I compare it to breaking down a set," she added. "I imagine you know what that means, don't you?"

I shook my head.

Agnes's eyes widened as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"When a play has finished its run, the actors and the crew tear down the scenery so the next play can begin."

At that point Mrs. Liddy smiled at me and left. "Have you ever had piano lessons?" Agnes asked. "A little," I said.

"Good. You will play for us during our artistic gatherings. I try to bring everyone together once a month for recitals. Some of the students recite lines from plays; some sing, some play instruments.

"But, that will be later on when the school year begins. I don't have many students here during the summer session. Actually, there are only two at present. But in the fall, we'll pick up three more. The Beldock twins are returning, and one, Donald Rossi, is brand new, just like you.

"Trisha Kramer has agreed to share her room with you. If you can't get along with Trisha, I will have to move you into the attic or ask you to leave. She's a delightful young lady and a promising young dancer. It would be dreadful if anything happened to make her unhappy here. Do I make myself clear on that score?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." I could only wonder what lies Agnes had passed on to my prospective roommate.

"And I especially don't want you disturbing the other student who is here," she warned. "His name is Arthur Garwood." She sighed and shook her head. "He's a sensitive young man studying the oboe. His parents are quite famous: Bernard and Louelia Garwood. They play in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

"Well, I see you enjoyed your little snack. I will show you the rest of the house and take you to your room."

"Thank you." I stood up. "Should I take this tray back into the kitchen?"