And the girls went “Oooooohhh.” They were all so impressed. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Honey.

Even Bob gave her a hug and said, “Rock on—see you Stateside when I get back to gigging.” Whatever that means.

When it was time for her to go, the four of us clung together. All of the Tree Sisters, crying and hugging. Like there was no tomorrow. Which there isn’t for our little gang. We’ve promised to write to each other. But it was really really sad.

As she got into the backseat, Honey said, “Ooooh, thith ith howwible. I am tho thad. Tallulah, pleathe do me your little Irish dance to cheer me up.”

I wasn’t in the mood and my eyes were all swollen from crying and so I said, “I don’t think I want—”

Flossie blew her nose and said in her Southern accent, “Yes, goddam it, Lullah Mae, let’s give Miss Honey a good ole traditional Texan send-off. One, two, three, four, and hiddly diddly …”

Jo gave me a socking big biff on the arm to encourage me.

And while Vaisey, Flossie, and Jo sang that little-known Irish folk song, “Hiddly Diddly Diddly,” I did my best throwing-my-legs-around jigging ever. My legs had a life of their own. I was just bobbling around on top of them.

I kept it up until the car was out of sight.

Then I panted to the others, “Nothing could feel worse than this, losing one of your first proper chums.”

And I burst into tears.

As we trooped off to French, Dr. Lightowler tapped me on the shoulder.

“You don’t mind making a fool of yourself in public do you, Tallulah Casey? How very interesting. Perhaps there is something you can offer Dother Hall.”

Holy moly, what a miserable day. We read through A Midsummer Night’s Dream in French, I don’t know why. Monty said it would add a certain je ne sais quoi to our understanding. But it’s hard to read properly when you are snuffling.

Monty had his hankie out and sighed, “Honey would have been so right for Titania. That lovely golden hair, that sweet voice we will never hear again.” And he started blubbing.

That set us all off howling.

As I was moping home, Dr. Lightowler appeared at her office door. Had she been looking through the keyhole? Now what? She beckoned me in with one of her thin bony fingers. Was she going to peck me to death?

I went into her nest—I mean, room—and she fixed me with those unblinking eyes. Sort of poo-colored eyes.

“Tut tut … so many girls looooonnnnng to come here to learn the art of theeeeaater, but it is you who are allowed to come here. With your silly legs.”

I looked down at my silly legs.

“I have been thinking about you, and I have an excellent way for you to show how very … very … funny you are.”

I said politely, “Well, you know I don’t think I would go as far as to say that I was, you know, very funny, but well, Ms. Fox did say that I was a comedy genius and …”