"I said I didn't know where thee was going to put any more Stars and Wild Strawberries, mother. We have them in the attic and in the china closet—even under my bed. I suppose thee's all in the same fix?"
The aunts nodded. Uncle Johnnie walked over to the fireplace and stood balancing from heels to toes, looking at Ophelia over it, floating in her nightgown through a stew of waterlilies, with ghosts of his sisters moving dimly on the glass that covered the painting. What an absurd picture, he thought, and what an art treasure Eliza considers it. With his back to the room he yawned widely. They're off again, he thought, not troubling to separate the excited soft babble into words. Go it, girls!
"Does thee, Johnnie? Johnnie!"
"I beg your pardon, Ann?"
"Does thee think the child should go to New York? Thee knows her heart's set on it. She says people are too good to her here, that she's smothered in comfort and kindness, that she
