"I Thought You Said We Were Invited to Supper" Cont.)
Screen 2 of 3Miss Rebecca asked us both about our music, and when I told her my instrument was a trumpet, she reacted as though she had never heard of such a thing. It's like a cornet but longer and more slender, I explained. Her face lit up and she stretched her eyes in a strange way, as she said with some pride that yes of course she knew what a cornet was, adding that she had heard both Herbert Clarke and Pablo Casals play the cornet several times. (Wally and I looked at each other in amazement, because we both knew very well that Casals played the cello, not the cornet, but we said nothing.) Miss Rebecca continued, but now with impatience and some irritation by asking me why didn't they (whoever "they" were) leave the cornet just like it was, instead of stretching it out and calling it a trumpet--or whatever. Having no answer for that, I remained quiet and just listened to her concluding remark, "If people would only leave things as they are. But they won't. Someone is always trying to change things. . . . . . . ."
I'm sure she would have gone on and on, if I had not deliberately turned away, first looking at the grandfather clock which had just sounded six-thirty and then at the bare dining room table which gave no signs of preparation for a meal. But my looking intently at the dining room and on toward the kitchen in what obviously was a quizzical way did not seem to affect the sisters at all. They both continued their babbling reminiscing with Captain Stutzenberger about the good ol' times back in Biloxi, Mississippi.
Wally and I kept exchanging questioning glances as we looked, listened, and sniffed for some clues that food would soon be coming. But we could not see, hear, or smell anything that even suggested such a possibility.
I whispered to Wally and motioned awkwardly to Captain Stutzenberger that it was getting late. They didn't have to be told. They were as hungry and perplexed about the situation as I was.
Just then Miss Rebecca suggested that Wally (she actually addressed him as "Cadet Becka") take his saxophone and go next door to the Ballard home with Captain Stutzenberger, where they could practice the solo he was to play. Good idea, we all agreed, and off we went, with the Gormley sisters trotting nervously along behind us.
Once there, we were introduced--too lengthily--to all the Ballards who seemed to be very intelligent people but also quite uncertain about what was going on with the Gormleys and their military visitors. Their piano was an old one and badly out of tune, all of which made the practice hurried and unsatisfactory.
A few minutes after the Ballard cuckoo clock struck seven, we broke away, with apologies for having to rush back to the school for the remainder of the music contest.
But the Gormley's--especially Miss Kate who seemed puzzled by something she didn't share with us--insisted we go back to their house before finally departing. Miss Kate said she had something for us, and Miss Rebecca nodded sweetly in assent. We agreed but Captain Stutzenberger made it clear we could stay for only a moment.
While we stood waiting in the Gormley parlor, Miss Kate went hurriedly to the pantry, located, as pantries were in most southern houses at the time between the dining room and the kitchen. She came out carrying a beautiful hand-painted plate with several pieces of cake on it.
"Wonchawl at least have a ludl piece o' cake befo' you go?" she asked with a pleasant smile.
Our mouths were watering, but before we could answer, Miss Rebecca said quickly, "Oh no, Sister, theyuh not hungry; they ate befo' they came!"
We were utterly astonished by this comment from Miss Rebecca. We could not believe we had heard what we thought we had heard. We were speechless--but not too numb or paralyzed to reach for the cake with polite thank you's and mumbling comments about how good it was.
[CONTENTS OF VOL. 6]
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