Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Very likely by this time the whole truth is known.
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