“Hullo?” a rather tight, flat little voice asks. “Is this Dave—uh, Mitchell—uh, I mean, with Cat?”
I recognize it’s Mary, all right, even if she does sound strange and scared.
“Oh, hi!” I say. “Sure, it’s me! I’m awfully sorry about that day we were going to play golf. I was in bed with the flu, and then I didn’t know your phone number or....”
“Oh, that’s all right,” she says. “I wondered what happened.”
There’s a slight pause, and I see Pop grinning and pretending to read his paper. I turn around so I won’t see him.
“Where are you now, out in Coney?” I ask Mary.
“No, as a matter of fact, I’m in Macy’s.” Her voice trails off a little, but then she starts in again. “As a matter of fact, that’s why I called. You see, I was supposed to meet Mom here at five, and she hasn’t come, and I bought all these Christmas presents, and I forgot about the tax or something, and this is my last dime.”
She stops. I see now why she sounds scared, and I get a curdled feeling in my stomach, too, because what if the dime runs out in the phone and she’s cut off? I’ll never find her in Macy’s. It’s too big.
“Pop!” I yelp. “There’s this girl I know is in a phone booth in Macy’s and her dime is going to run out and she hasn’t anymore money. What’ll I do?”
“Get the phone number of the booth and call her back. Here—” He gives me a pencil.