Gisselle smirked. "What about Wendy?" she asked. "Daphne had her replaced."

"Good. She was too uppity anyway," Gisselle said.

"That's a lie. She put up with a lot from you, Gisselle. I'm sure the new maid won't."

"Yes she will, or she'll go too," Gisselle promised with a smile. Then she took off, wheeling herself back to her room in a fury. I was sure she would do something to embarrass us at Mrs. Clairborne's tea, maybe by wearing something inappropriate just for spite, but she surprised me by dressing herself in a pretty light blue dress with matching shoes. She had Samantha brush out her hair and pin it back at the sides. Mrs. Penny had told us that Mrs. Clairborne did not like to see her girls wearing makeup, but a slight tinge of lipstick was permissible. I thought Gisselle would be defiant and do her eyelids and her cheeks, but she surprised me again by being conservative with her makeup.

Samantha wheeled her out to the main lobby to join Abby and me at a little before one-fifty.

"Chubs asked me to steal a few pralines for her," she told us. "When either of you get a chance, shove some in my purse."

"Kate doesn't need the added calories," I said.

"If she doesn't care, why should you?"

"Good friends try to help each other, not feed each other's weaknesses," I replied.

"Who's saying I'm good friends?" She laughed wickedly. Abby and I looked at each other and shook our heads. A moment later Mrs. Penny appeared dressed in a floral cotton dress with a wide pink sash tied around her waist. She wore a corsage over her right breast and had a sun hat and a matching straw pocketbook with an embroidered rose on each side.

"Well, I declare," Gisselle said. "Scarlett O'Hara." Samantha laughed and ran off to tell the others what Gisselle had said, I was sure.

Mrs. Penny blushed. "You all look so pretty," she said. "Mrs. Clairborne will be very pleased. Right this way, girls. Buck has the station wagon out front," she said.

"Buck?" Abby said, turning to me. We started to laugh. "Who's Buck?" Gisselle demanded.

"He's the young man in charge of most everything around here," Mrs. Penny said, but Gisselle eyed Abby and me suspiciously as I pushed her out and down the ramp to the wagon.

Close up in the daylight, Buck looked even younger than he had looked at the boathouse or riding on the lawn tractor. He had hair almost as black as Abby's, but his eyes were dark brown. He had a dark complexion, being a Native American. Even in his plaid shirt, we could see how strong he was. He looked taller too, and leaner, with a narrow waist and hips and long legs. The moment he set eyes on us he smiled softly, which was something Gisselle caught.

"Hello, Mr. Mud," Abby quipped. He laughed and then registered a look of surprise and great interest when he saw that Gisselle was my twin.

"Don't tell me there are two like you," he kidded. I just smiled.

"How do you know him?" Gisselle demanded. Neither Abby nor I replied.

"Here, let me help you," he offered Gisselle. "He put his left arm around her waist and his right under her legs and lifted her so gently out of the seat, it was as if she weighed no more than ten pounds. She smiled, her face so close to his that her lips could graze his cheek. He placed her comfortably into the wagon and then folded the wheelchair with such expertise, I felt certain he had done this before.

We all got into the car, Mrs. Penny up front.

"Who's wearing all that jasmine?" Gisselle demanded as soon as we were all settled in the station wagon.

"Oh, I am, dear," Mrs. Penny said. "It's Mrs. Clairborne's favorite scent."

"Well it's not mine," Gisselle remarked. "Besides, you should wear what you like, not what some rich old lady likes."

"Gisselle!" I said, widening my eyes. Had she no discretion?

"Well, you should!"

"I like it very much myself," Mrs. Penny said. "Please don't worry. Now, let me tell you about the Clairborne mansion as we drive up. Mrs. Clairborne likes it when the girls know its history. Actually, she expects it," she said in a lower voice.

"Will we be tested later?" Gisselle quipped.

"Tested? Oh no, dear," Mrs. Penny said with a laugh, and then she stopped and thought a moment. "Just be respectful and remember, it's her generosity that keeps Greenwood going."

"And provides a job for her niece," Gisselle muttered. Even I had to smile at that one, but Mrs. Penny, as usual, ignored anything unpleasant and began her lecture.

"The mansion was a very important sugar plantation as recently as ten years ago."

"That's 'recent'?" Gisselle asked.

Mrs. Penny smiled as if Gisselle had said something very silly, something that needed no response.

"The original four-room dwelling was built in the 1790s and is now connected to the main house by an arched carriageway, which serves as a main entrance during inclement weather. At the height of its success as a sugar plantation," she continued, "the estate had four sugar houses, each with a separate planting unit and its own set of slaves."

"My father says the Civil War didn't end slavery, it just raised the cost of labor from nothing to the minimum wage," Gisselle quipped.

I saw a smile break out on Buck's lips.

"Oh dear, dear," Mrs. Penny said. "Please don't say anything like that to Mrs. Clairborne. And whatever you do, don't mention the Civil War."

"I'll see," Gisselle replied, enjoying her hold over our worried housemother.

"Anyway," she continued, catching her breath, "many of the furnishings, such as the armoires, predate the Civil War. The gardens, as you will soon see, are modeled after the French style of the seventeenth century, with marble statues imported from Italy."

A few minutes later we arrived at the entrance to the Clairborne estate, and Mrs. Penny continued in her role as tour guide.

"Look at the magnolias and the old oaks," she pointed out. "Over there, behind that barn, are the family burial grounds. See the iron-grillwork fence shaded by the old oaks.

"All of the bookcases inside were hand-made in France. You'll see that most of the windows have brocaded draperies covering rose-point lace curtains and hand-painted linen shades. We will be having tea in one of the pretty sitting rooms. Perhaps you'll have a chance to see the ballroom."

"Is it ever used?" Gisselle asked.

"Not anymore, dear, no."

"What a waste," she said, but even she was impressed with the size of the mansion.

The enormous two-story structure had grand Doric columns with an upper-level galerie that wrapped around the house. Atop the second story was a glass-windowed belvedere. The west side of the house looked darker, probably because of the huge willow trees whose branches hung as though weighted, casting long, deep shadows over the plastered brick walls and dormer windows.

As soon as we drove up the front door opened, and a tall, lean black man with snow-white hair appeared in the entrance. He was bent forward so that his head projected unbecomingly, making him seem to be climbing hills even while standing-.in a doorway.

"That's Otis, the Clairborne butler," Mrs. Penny said quickly. "He's been with the Clairbornes for over fifty years."

"Looks like he's been here more like a hundred years," Gisselle quipped.

We got out, and Buck moved around quickly to take out Gisselle's chair. She waited in happy anticipation as he came around to lift her out of the car and place her gently into the chair. Fortunately there were only a few steps up to the portico, something Buck was able to navigate easily. After he had delivered Gisselle in her chair to the front door, he returned to our car.

"Why can't Buck come inside too?" Gisselle asked.

"Oh no, dear," Mrs. Penny said, shaking her head and smiling as if Gisselle had suggested the funniest thing. "This tea is only for new girls today. Mrs. Clairborne sees you in small groups all month."

"Mr. Mud," Gisselle muttered at me. "You'd better tell me how you know him."

I pretended not to hear her as I pushed her chair through the entryway. Otis nodded and greeted Mrs. Penny. Once inside, Mrs. Penny reduced her voice to a whisper as if we had walked into a church or famous museum.

"All of the rooms are furnished with French antiques, and as you will see, all have deep purple divans with scrolled walnut frames."

The marble floors were waxed like glass. In fact, everything from the antique tables and chairs to the statues and walls shone. If there was any dust in here it was hidden under the rugs, I thought, but I noticed that whoever was responsible for the winding of the hickory grandfather clock just inside the entrance hadn't done so, and it was stopped at five after two.

The spacious and airy rooms on the first floor all opened to the central hallway. Mrs. Penny explained that the kitchen was in the rear of the house. About halfway in was the gracefully curved stairway, with its polished mahogany balustrade and marble steps. Above us in the hallway, grand chandeliers were lit and sparkled like drops of ice. In fact, despite its tapestries, its paintings, its great drapes and velvet furniture, there was something cold about the mansion. Even though the Clairbornes had lived here for a long time it lacked the warmth and personality that a family usually imparted to a home. Why, it felt like a cold museum. The pieces looked like things amassed, collected for their value only, and the immaculate condition and appearance of everything around us gave me the impression that these were unused things, things only for show, a home on display, but not a home in which people really loved and lived.

We were brought to a sitting room on the right, where we found a velvet sofa and a matching settee arranged to face a high-backed deep blue velvet chair embroidered with gold, its dark walnut arms and legs scrolled with hand-carved designs. It looked like a throne set atop a large Persian rug. The remainder of the floor was uncovered blond hardwood.