It didn't. Aunt Bella only said, "You should look at your plate and spoon, dear."
After lunch, when they were resting, you could feel naughtiness coming on. Then Pidgeon carried you on his back to the calf-shed; or Mrs. Fisher took you up into her bedroom to see her dress.
In Mrs. Fisher's bedroom a smell of rotten apples oozed through the rosebud pattern on the walls. There were no doors inside, only places in the wall-paper that opened. Behind one of these places there was a cupboard where Mrs. Fisher kept her clothes. Sometimes she would take the lid off the big box covered with wall-paper and show you her Sunday bonnet. You sat on the bed, and she gave you peppermint balls to suck while she peeled off her black merino and squeezed herself into her black silk. You watched for the moment when the brooch with the black tomb and the weeping willow on it was undone and Mrs. Fisher's chin came out first by the open collar and Mrs. Fisher began to swell. When she stood up in her petticoat and bodice she was enormous; her breasts and hips and her great arms shook as she walked about the room.
Mary was sorry when she said good-bye to Uncle Edward and Aunt Bella and Mrs. Fisher.
For, always, as soon as she got home, Roddy rushed at her with the same questions.
"Did you let Uncle Edward kiss you?"
"Yes."
"Did you talk to Pidgeon?"
"Yes."
"Did you kiss Mrs. Fisher?"