“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.

“They’re such children,” she said. “Sex is still a dirty word to them. A kiss on the neck will seem more like a mosquito bite when and if a boy ever does kiss them.”

“If he sucks hard enough, it could have the same result,” I said.