Tommy’s mother raised eyes dark with fright. “Oh, don’t take him away, Judge.” She hugged the little fellow harder than ever.
“I’ll keep him till I find some family to board him by the day,” spoke up Mrs. Hollis, briskly. “But what Plainfield needs is a bigger Day Nursery.”
The next case was called. A big boy of sixteen was up for petty thieving. He was sent to “Boyville,” the truant school, and then the court adjourned for lunch.
Joan could not get the thought of the too full Day Nursery out of her mind, and of poor Tommy locked in a furnished room and howling for his mother while she was out at work. Maybe Mother would keep Tommy till there was a vacancy at the Day Nursery. That would be better than having him at the Detention Home with Mrs. Hollis. It would be fun, too. On the way out, she edged over toward Mrs. Hollis and spoke to her about it. Tommy gave her a wobbly smile.
At lunch, Joan was too absorbed in the problem of Tommy to take her usual interest in Tim’s account of the morning. He had been sent to write up a butcher shop that had been flooded from a broken water main. That was what the story had been. “Nothing at the Juvenile Court, either,” he grumbled.
“Oh, yes, there was,” she corrected, as she spread her bread with peanut butter to make a sandwich. Lunch in summer was always a picnicky meal. “That part about the Day Nursery ought to make a dandy feature.”
“Who’s interested in babies?” Tim always took her suggestions doubtfully. Besides he seemed to be getting all the baby assignments lately.
“Why, everybody! Except you, maybe. Everybody’s been a baby, you see,” she told him.
“Well, I’d like to hand in something from the Court so Nixon will send me again, for listening to cases isn’t a bad way to spend a morning.”
After Tim had hurried off, Joan approached her mother. “Couldn’t we take Tommy by the day? I asked Mrs. Hollis and she says it’d be much better for him to be here with us, and she says the mother’s willing to pay something for his care.”