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‘Spanked –’

‘Exactly. There are really some things no gentleman should do, my dear, and one of them is spank his wife. Knock her down, possibly; but spank her, never! I would like,’ said Miss Minerva very majestically, ‘to see the man who would dare to spank me.’

Anne felt she would like to see him also. She realized that there are limits to the imagination after all. By no stretch of hers could she imagine a husband spanking Miss Minerva Tomgallon.

‘This is the room my poor brother Arthur and his bride quarrelled in the night he brought her home after the wedding. She just walked out and never came back. Nobody ever knew what it was all about. She was so beautiful and stately we always called her “the Queen”. Some people said she only married him because she couldn’t hurt his feelings by saying no, and repented when it was too late. It ruined my poor brother’s life. He became a travelling salesman. No Tomgallon,’ said Miss Minerva tragically, ‘had ever been a travelling salesman… This is the ball-room. Of course, it is never used now. But there have been any number of balls here. The Tomgallon balls were famous. People came from all over the Island to them. That chandelier cost my father five hundred dollars. My great-aunt Patience dropped dead while dancing here one night – right there in that corner. She had fretted a great deal over a man who had disappointed her. I cannot imagine any girl breaking her heart over a man. Men,’ said Miss Minerva, staring at a photograph of her father, a person with bristling side-whiskers and a hawk-like nose, ‘have always seemed to me such trivial creatures. We have an old legend that in Grandfather’s time, when he and Grandmother were away from home, the family had a dance here one Saturday night, and kept it up too late, and’ – Miss Minerva lowered her voice to a tone that made Anne’s flesh creep on her bones – ‘Satan entered. There’s a queer mark on the floor in that bay window, very much like a burnt footstep. But, of course, I don’t really believe that story.’

Miss Minerva sighed as if she were very sorry she couldn’t believe it.

11

The dining-room was in keeping with the rest of the house. There was another ornate chandelier, an equally ornate gilt-framed mirror over the mantelpiece, and a table beautifully set with silver and crystal and old Crown Derby. The supper, served by a rather grim and ancient maid, was bountiful and exceedingly good, and Anne’s healthy young appetite did full justice to it. Miss Minerva kept silence for a time, and Anne dared say nothing for fear of starting another avalanche of tragedies. Once a large, sleek black cat came into the room and sat down by Miss Minerva with a hoarse meow. Miss Minerva poured a saucer of cream and set it down before him. She seemed so much more human after this that Anne lost a good deal of her awe of the last of the Tomgallons.

‘Do have some more of the peaches, my dear. You’ve eaten nothing – positively nothing.’

‘Oh, Miss Tomgallon, I’ve enjoyed –’

‘The Tomgallons always set a good table,’ said Miss Minerva complacently. ‘My Aunt Sophia made the best sponge-cake I ever tasted. I think the only person my father ever really hated to see come to our house was his sister Mary, because she had such a poor appetite. She just minced and tasted. He took it as a personal insult. Father was a very unrelenting man. He never forgave my brother Richard for marrying against his will. He ordered him out of the house, and he was never allowed to enter it again. Father always repeated the Lord’s Prayer at family worship every morning, but after Richard flouted him he always left out the sentence, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” I can see him,’ said Miss Minerva dreamily, ‘kneeling there leaving it out.’

After supper they went to the smallest of the three drawing-rooms – which was still rather big and grim – and spent the evening before the huge fire, a pleasant, friendly fire enough. Anne crocheted at a set of intricate doilies,