One afternoon in January, Maria came rushing up the stairs, followed, as usual, by Christina, both stopping short when they met me on the landing. 

         “Why, good afternoon, Mary, I mean Edmonia,” chirped Christina, the lesser of the two evils, as she looked up at me from under her blonde fringe. 

         I smiled at them, but with my lips only. “Good afternoon, Christina, Maria. Are you enjoying our winter weekend?”

         “We are going on a sleigh ride with two gentlemen friends this afternoon,” gloated Maria, stroking her ridiculous rabbit-ear hair loops.

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