Sunday after church was the time we would meet. I remember especially in the spring when the birds would sing. I would skip down the sidewalk beside my Mother until we got to the house. While the adults would chat I would go around quiet as a mouse. I would pick up a Royal Doulton and gaze into her eyes wondering what she would think of herself stuck on the mantle. All dressed up with nowhere to go. What a delicate thing in such pretty dress. Just like me in my Sunday best. Then I would be called back in to the drawing room. Aunt Leda would entertain us on the piano with her fingers flying and voice soaring. My Mother laughing and singing along. Afterwards, we would have ladyfingers and tea. I would delight in the taste so airy and light. Like an angel had flown right into my mouth!