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"He attacked me," Turner accused, pointing at Paul. "That's not the whole truth," I said. "He--"
"All right, all right," Mr. Lafourche said. "I don't care who did what. This sort of thing doesn't go on in my hall. Now get yourselves out of here. Go on, Browne. Move yourself and your crew before I have you all locked up."
Smiling, Turner Browne turned and led his bunch of cronies away. I brought a wet napkin to Paul and dabbed his lip gently.
I'm sorry," he said. "I lost my temper."
"You shouldn't have. He's so much bigger."
"I don't care how big he is. I'm not going to allow him to say those things to you," Paul replied bravely. With his cheek scarlet and a little swollen, I could only cry for him. Everything had been going so well; we were having such a good time. Why was there always someone like Turner Browne to spoil things?
"Let's go," I said.
"We can still stay and dance some more."
"No. We'd better get something on your bruises. Grandmere Catherine will have something that will heal you quickly," I said.
"She'll be disappointed in me, angry that I got into a fight while I was with you," Paul moaned. "Damn that Turner Browne."
"No, she won't. She'll be proud of you, proud of the way you came to my defense," I said.
"You think so?"
"Yes," I said, although I wasn't sure how Grandmere would react. "Anyway, if she can fix it so your face doesn't look so bad, your parents won't be as angry, right?"
He nodded and then laughed.
"I look terrible, huh?"
"Not much better than someone who wrestled an alligator, I suppose."
We both laughed and then left the hall. "Turner Browne and his friends were already gone, off to guzzle beer and brag to each other, I imagined, so there was no more trouble. It was raining harder when we drove back to the house. Paul pulled as close as he could and then we hurried in under the umbrella. The moment we stepped through the door, Grandmere Catherine looked up from her needlework and nodded.
"It was that bully, Turner Browne, Grandmere. He--"
She lifted her hand, rose from her seat, and went to the counter where she had some of her poultices set out as if she had anticipated our dramatic arrival. It was eerie. Even Paul was speechless.
"Sit down," she told him, pointing to a chair. "After I treat him, you can tell me all about it."
Paul looked at me, his eyes wide, and then moved to the seat to let Grandmere Catherine work her miracles.
4
Learning to Be
a Liar
.
"Here," Grandmere Catherine told Paul, "keep
this pressed against your cheek with one hand and this pressed against your lip with the other." She handed him two warm cloths over which she had smeared one of her secret salves. When Paul took the cloths, I saw the knuckles on his right hand were all bruised and scraped as well.
"Look at his hand, too, Grandmere," I cried. "It's nothing," Paul said. "When I was rolling around on the floor--"
"Rolling around on the floor? At the fais dodo?" Grandmere asked. He nodded and then started to speak. "We were having some gumbo and--"
"Hold those tight," she ordered. While he was holding the cloth against his lip, he couldn't talk, so I spoke for him, quickly.
