“Not me. Is there anything that promises a more mundane life than what my mother calls respectability and humility? It will weigh you down with the most boring days, days devoid of any thrills and excitement. There are no surprises in a life like that. Look at how my mother lives and most likely yours as well.

“She spends most of her free time doing needlework or having tea and gossiping with her few spinster and widowed friends. How droll. For me, it’s simply a slower way to die. They all might as well grow whiskers and smoke corncob pipes.”

“Some do,” Daisy said, and she and I laughed.

“Does your mother know what you think of her, how she lives?” Edna asked, practically breathless.

“Probably,” I said. “I’ve made enough comments about it and even told her she’s losing her femininity.”

I sat back on my hands and let the sun wash my face.

“I would never say anything like that to my mother,” Agnes said, aghast. “Would you, Daisy?”

I opened my eyes and looked at her to see how she would answer.

“Maybe,” Daisy said. “I haven’t yet, but I could.”

“You don’t understand, Agnes. A daughter can be different from her mother. Mine hates the wind in her hair, whereas I seek every opportunity to get it in mine. We’re truly oil and water. We don’t mix well.”

“Does your mother think that, too?” Edna asked.

“Let me put it this way,” I said, sitting forward again. “If my mother could hire a witch to turn me into an ornament that she could plant in her Victorian sitting room, she would. Although not really above the door, my mother keeps the words hovering everywhere in our house.”

“What words?” Agnes asked.

“ ‘Children should be seen and not heard, but Corrine especially should not be seen until she is gagged, bound, and fitted into an approved marriage,’ ” I recited. “And I’m sure like all your mothers would say, ‘Afterward she can speak only when her husband deems it is proper.’ Well, maybe that’s how you see your futures, but not me.”

No one spoke for a moment. Daisy was looking down, but Agnes and Edna stared at me as if they had just seen a ghost.

“I think I have to start for home,” Agnes said. She looked like she was going to get sick.

“Yes, me, too,” Edna said.

They both leaped to their feet.

“Remember, I brought you here,” Daisy said, “and you swore everything said and heard is sacred.”

“We know,” Agnes said.

“You’d better,” Daisy told them with steely eyes. They looked afraid to swallow.

Daisy turned to me.

“I’ll help you bring in the blanket, glasses, and jug of lemonade.” She obviously wanted to remain for a few minutes to talk about them.

“Thank you.”

We started to fold the blanket. Edna and Agnes said good-bye and quickly walked off together, holding hands and never looking as small to me. Daisy watched them, too.