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to be known by what business or profession he was in. "And wait until you see their wives," she said.

"With all their wealth and position, they don't know very much about fashion and makeup. You and I will stand out like, . . like roses in a bed of weeds." She

grabbed and hugged me. As sad as 1 felt going to a -Thanksgiving dinner without Daddy, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the way Momma spoke to me. She was acting more like my older sister than my Mother. I felt, perhaps for the first time in my life, that she was treating me like her closest friend.

"Now don't be nervous just because these people have so much money. You will see they aren't so clever when it comes to socializing. When they ask you a question, answer politely, but don't offer more information than they request. Men appreciate women who are not talkative and gossipy around the dinner table. Men like to dominate the conversations with their talk of politics and business."

"But Daddy was never like that." Poor Daddy, I thought, with no family around him, out on the ocean on one of his ships, having a Thanksgiving dinner with strangers.

"Don't look so sad," Momma advised. "You are so pretty when you smile."

Mrs. Deveroe and her husband and the Darrows were already there when we arrived. Everyone said Momma and I looked like sisters. The men made me feel very grown up with their compliments and approving eyes, and Mamma entered the great house as if she were the queen arriving. There were servants everywhere, just waiting to do her bidding--take her and my coats, show us into the music room where the others were already gathered, and get us some champagne punch.

"Jillian! You're finally here," Tony cried coming quickly to greet us at the entryway to the music room. He took her hand into his and gazed into her eyes, his blue eyes burning with love and appreciation. "You are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't think I'll ever tire of saying it." I had thought all morning about how much I hated Tony but now a warm, electric feeling shot through my body. I had never been so close to anything so romantic. It was as if I had stepped into a movie, and I couldn't take my eyes off the two of them. No one in the room could. There was a great pause, as though we were all sighing, and then everyone burst out into conversation. Tony turned his heavenly blue eyes to me.

"And Leigh, you look very beautiful too. I'm so lucky to have both of you here. Farthinggale Manor will sparkle as it never has." He scooped our arms into his, placing himself between us, but I stood as stiffly as I could, touched him as little as possible, hoping to hurt him as he introduced us to everyone.

Little Troy sat in a huge cushioned easy chair in the corner, his feet dangling over the edge. He looked lost and alone, but so cute in his tiny tuxedo and black tie. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up.

"Hi, Troy. Happy Thanksgiving." I shook his little hand.

"Hi. Tony says you're going to come here to live and be my big sister now. Are you? Are you really?" I had to smile at his enthusiasm, even though the words he spoke were still so alien and so frightening to me.

"Yes, it looks that way, Troy."

"Good. I have so many things to show you, secret things," he added in a whisper, his eyes turning to be sure no one overheard.

When the time .eh, ea for all of us

to go into the great dining room and around the long table, Troy and I indeed sat beside each other. Momma sat on Tony's right and I sat on his left with Troy on my left. There were thirty-three people for dinner. I had never seen so many people at a dining room table.

At the center was a great chopped liver swan. There were large goblets for wine and settings of Wedgwood china with little figures and country scenes on them. The silver was heavy, but sparkling bright with floral designs. The heavy blue napkins had an embroidered F. M. done in white thread.

After a while Momma began to announce her plans for her and Tony's wedding.

"It will be like a royal coronation," she said and followed it with a trail of laughter. But then she elaborated. "The invitation will become a collector's item, for I am designing it myself, based upon one of the illustrations I've done for Darrow Publishing," she added and nodded toward the Darrows.

"We're going to have a twenty-six-piece orchestra and flowers flown in from South America and Tony has come up with a wonderful added touch. Tell them, Tony."

"Well, you're ruining the surprise," he said gently and smiled. "But I suppose it's all right since these are special friends tonight. I'm having a commemorative Tatterton Toy created for each and every guest. It has the date of our wedding carved into it."

"It's a wonderful idea." Momma beamed. "Two figures modeled after us . . ." She reached for the hand of her handsome young husband-to-be. ". . dancing on the top of the world."

Everyone "oohed" their appreciation. Even I had been taken by surprise, hearing it for the first time. Tony tried to catch my eye with his own intense ones, but I looked away. How easily Momma had captured the whole table's attention, I thought. They all looked envious--men, envious of Tony's having her as his wife; women, envious of Momma's beauty and exuberance.

These plans for the wedding did sound exciting and glamorous, but even now, even at this

Thanksgiving dinner table at Farthy that seemed so far away from our intimate family Thanksgivings of the past, I couldn't help but feel alone and lost.

Plans and details of the wedding dominated the conversation for the rest of the dinner. Little Troy got a faceful of whipped cream when he dipped into the chocolate cream pie. I laughed and wiped his mouth.

After dinner everyone returned to the music room. Troy asked me to go to his playroom to help him color his drawings. When we got there and I saw that he had created the pictures himself, I stared in amazement. He was remarkably talented for a small child. There were pictures of the great house and the grounds and some pictures of grounds people.

"This is Henderson and this is Margaret Stone and this is Edgar." He pointed at his different drawings.

"They're wonderful, Troy. Very, very good," I said. His eyes brightened.

"Here," he said handing me a brown crayon. "Edgar always wears a brown shirt. You do Edgar."