(gap: 2s) In every well-ordered home, the afternoon tea is a cherished ritual, a moment of grace and hospitality. On one such crisp spring day, my mother was preparing for her 3:30 tea, a gathering that required the utmost care and attention. The cook, ever diligent, had baked a delightful array of biscuits, arranging them with precision upon silver platters in the pantry before departing for her afternoon respite. Suzanne, our capable maid, would serve, while Mother presided with her customary poise.
My dear friend Marilyn had come to visit, bringing her doll, and my younger brother Jeff was in our company. As children, our curiosity often outpaced our appetites, and soon we found ourselves seeking a small treat. Quietly, we slipped from the playroom, descended the back staircase, and entered the kitchen, our hearts light with mischief.
The garden was alive with the gentle conversation of Nanny and Suzanne, while Mother was upstairs, attending to her toilette in anticipation of her guests. Marilyn’s mother was expected for tea, and it was understood that Marilyn would depart when her mother did. We peered into the refrigerator, discovering only finger sandwiches, which did not appeal to our childish palates. Our interest was piqued more by the adventure than by hunger.
We wandered through the pantry, drawn by the prospect of playing the piano in the main dining room before being summoned for tea. The instrument, with its polished keys and rich tone, beckoned us to linger.
Yet, as we passed the platters of biscuits, temptation proved too great. Lifting the linen covers, we beheld my favourite confections, each one beautifully adorned. We began to point out those we most admired, and soon, without clear instigation, we commenced tasting. It is difficult to say who began, but all were complicit.
In a matter of moments, the three of us had consumed a considerable portion of the biscuits. Realising our error, we attempted to rearrange the remaining treats, but the empty spaces on the platter revealed our mischief.
In our panic, we combined the remaining biscuits onto other platters, hoping to conceal our wrongdoing. The empty, crumb-laden silver tray, however, was impossible to disguise. We attempted to hide it among the serving trays, but it was far too conspicuous.
At that very moment, Suzanne entered and discovered us in the act—frosting upon our dresses, crumbs in Jeff’s hair. There was no possibility of denial.
Suzanne promptly escorted Marilyn and me upstairs to Mother, who was making her final preparations in the drawing room. Jeff followed, his expression one of guilt. Suzanne explained the situation, and Mother soon obtained a full confession from each of us.
Mother was deeply troubled. The cook had prepared just enough biscuits for her guests, and now there would not be sufficient for all. She instructed Suzanne to make the sandwich platters more appealing, then turned her attention to us.
“Look at you—crumbs and frosting everywhere. I may not have enough for my guests now. Why did you not ask for something if you were hungry? You know there are always treats in the nursery,” Mother admonished, her voice firm yet controlled.
Mother’s disappointment was evident, though she never lost her composure. She reminded us that, had we asked, Nanny would have served us tea in the nursery. Her words were measured, but the lesson was clear: honesty and self-control are virtues to be cultivated.
Mother then telephoned Marilyn’s mother to explain the situation. She informed us that Marilyn’s mother would arrive soon. Nanny entered, surprised by the scene, and Suzanne recounted our misdeed. Mother instructed Nanny to take Jeff to the nursery and address his naughtiness.
Jeff, overcome with remorse, began to cry as Nanny led him away. Marilyn and I were left in the drawing room, seated in separate chairs and forbidden to speak. We waited in anxious silence, dreading the consequences of our actions.
After what seemed an eternity, Suzanne returned with both our mothers. Marilyn’s mother, still in her coat, was shown to the guest suite by Suzanne, where she could clean Marilyn and determine her punishment. Mother addressed us with solemnity: “You are both to be spanked for what you have done. Marilyn’s mother will discipline her, and I shall discipline you.”
Mother took my hand and led me to her room, while Marilyn departed with her own mother. I felt a pang of guilt as Marilyn left.
“I think this will have to be a very hard spanking, . You did a terrible thing, and you got two other people into difficulty. Jeff has been spanked, Marilyn is probably getting spanked, and Marilyn’s mother is very upset that her daughter took part in this. They have teas as much as we do, and Marilyn knew better!”
My mother placed me over the arm of her stuffed boudoir chair and pulled my slip up to my neck. Then she went to the window and just stood there lecturing me. I don’t remember what she said. I think the delay was a part of the punishment, as I look back now.
There was a knock at the door. I felt humiliated, but I didn’t dare move. It was Suzanne. The first guests had arrived. My mother looked at the clock, and was furious that I had done this to her. She returned to me. I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could.
The spanking began. Oh, did that hurt! Again and again, the spanks came down on my behind. I rolled from side to side, but it didn’t help, for Mother had a real grip on my upper back.
When it was over, she told me not to move. She said she had to get downstairs to her guests and I would have to stay like that until nanny came in for me. That made me afraid, because nanny had a “spanking stick” and I didn’t know if it would be left in the nursery.
It wasn’t long before nanny came in. The stick was not with her, but I know she did not realise that I would be in that position. She came over and smacked me several times, scolding me for causing my mother so much trouble. Then nanny lifted me up and put my panties back on me.
We walked to the nursery. I could see that Jeff had been crying, and he was standing in the corner. Marilyn was there too, and she had been crying. We had trouble looking at each other. Her dress was OK. Nanny put another dress on me, and Marilyn and I stood in corners for a while.
When we were all released, we were told that we would have to stay in the nursery, so nanny left us to go and get our tea. It was humiliating to know that our mothers had to make their apologies for their naughty daughters at the tea party that day.
