The guests had either departed or gone to bed. For the second time in a week, Clarinda stood before her father’s desk in the library. Papa was seated, wordlessly staring at her in stunned surprise. Mama stood next to him, nose pinched with outrage. Clarinda had thought the other day was bad, but this was a hundred times worse. “We are disgraced,” Mama’s curt voice lashed at her. Fists clenched, she gazed toward some hidden deity above and inquired, “Why did you send me such a child?” She asked Papa, “What did I do wrong? Is this God’s punishment?” “Nothing wrong with you, my dear,” Papa answered in conciliatory fashion, and turned his attention to Clarinda. “Have you any explanation?” Clarinda felt her heart pounding in her chest as she stood silent, trying to think of what to say. This was her chance to set things straight, but she was well aware a simple recitation of the facts would sound like a lie. They would never believe her. Desperately she cast about for words that would ring true and sound convincing.
