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"I wish to speak with your daughter alone," she said.

"What? Why?"

"If you want me to give you any more of my attention or time, you will do as I ask," she said firmly. Daddy thought a moment. It was easy to see she was determined and he would do best if he listened to her.

"I'll be right outside," he said, standing. "And only for a few minutes. Don't you try nothing sneaky on her neither," he added. He gazed at me, his face full of fury. "Call me if she does," he said, and walked out.

"Close the door," Gladys Tate ordered. I did so. "Sit where your father sat," she said. Then she sat forward. "Have you ever seen my husband before this incident in the swamp?"

"Just here and there, madame, but we never spoke."

"I see. Now, in your own words, tell me what you say happened."

I began slowly, explaining how I went swimming often in the pond and how this particular afternoon I had fallen asleep sunning myself. I described how he had taken off his clothing and climbed onto the rock. She didn't change expression until I told her what he had said about his marriage. Her eyes became smaller and a white lined etched about her tightened lips.

"Go on," she said. I described the way he teased me, how we fell out of the pirogue and then what followed. I felt the tears streaming down my face, but I did not wipe them off. They dripped from my chin.

She sat back when I was finished. Then she stood up abruptly and went to the door. Daddy was obviously eavesdropping and nearly fell into the room when she opened it.

"Well?" he said.

"I want you to wait right here," she told him. "Why?"

"Do what I tell you to do," she ordered without hesitation. Even Daddy, fired up the way he was, was taken aback with her strength and firmness. He entered the room and sat on the settee. "I'll see that Summers brings you something cool to drink," she said, and left.

"What's that woman doing?" Daddy asked me. "You tell her something I didn't hear?"

"I told her exactly what happened, Daddy."

"I don't trust these rich people," he said, eyeing the door. A few moments later, the butler appeared.

"Would you like some lemonade?" he asked.

"Ain't ya got nothing stronger?"

"We have whatever you want, monsieur," he said, grimacing.

"Get me a cold beer. No glass."

"Very good, monsieur. Mademoiselle?"

"I'll have the lemonade."

He nodded and left.

"Maybe they'll poison us," Daddy said. "That's why I ordered it in the bottle." He winked. "Don't drink the lemonade."

"Oh, Daddy, she wouldn't do that."

He sat back and drummed the arm of the chair with his long fingers.

"Look at this place. I could live a year off what this room costs. Maybe longer."

The butler brought us the drinks. Daddy sipped his beer cautiously. He shook his head when I drank my lemonade, but it tasted good and refreshing.

A short while later, we heard the front door open, and after that, Octavious Tate appeared.

"I'm calling the police," he said, but when he turned, Gladys Tate was right behind him, standing as solidly as a statue.