I tried to hide in a corner when Teresa came out of the kitchen, but it was too late.

“I should have known listening in at doors was not below you. Well, you know the old saying, ‘eavesdroppers rarely hear well of themselves.’ ” She looked shamefaced all the same.

With that, she turned and strutted down the hall. I wanted to run after her and shake her bony shoulders. How dare she talk about me like that? But a small voice told me that what she said was right—my manners were awful compared to Mrs. Shaw’s—although she’d exaggerated, particularly about me licking the knife. ’Twas true, though, that I had an awful mouth on me. I stuffed down the urge to hammer the living daylights out of her.

Instead, I walked out into the garden at the back of the house. It had become my favorite place to go in the long afternoons. I would sit on the swing and listen to the birds. One of the house cats had taken a liking to me and came most days to keep me company. I christened her Silver on account of the silver streak that ran through the fur on her head and down her back. She gave me comfort as she purred peacefully beside me. I supposed my time would have been better spent reading books, but I had no interest in them. Whenever I thought about books, though, the same image I’d had before of a fair-haired girl sitting on a white rock in a green field with her nose in a book came back to me. Again, I wondered who she was.

Teresa’s words had slit through me like a knife. I had no notion my manners were so bad. And I didn’t know where my swearing came from. It just seemed as natural as day for me to talk like that. It made me wonder about loss of memory. “Amnesia” they’d called it in the hospital. Why could I remember so many things—like the names of flowers and animals, or know what a car looked like—but not remember me own name? It struck me then that even so, my personality had not changed. I realized I was quick to anger and jealousy. I loved parading in front of the mirror wearing the nice clothes Mrs. Shaw had bought for me. Whoever I was, I’d had a bob on myself, that was clear.

A new thought came to me. I realized that if my memory never came back—or even if it did—I could make up my own story, maybe one where I would pass myself off as a lady. If so, I’d have to start with my manners. I decided that I’d watch and learn. I shot to my feet, causing Silver to jump off the bench with a loud meow, and made my way back toward the house.