A wizened old lady, in stylish clothes that looked out of place on her, was sitting in one of the wicker chairs provided in the radio department. On her lap was a little boy in a white suit that still had the price tag on one trouser leg, Joan noticed. He was clapping his hands to the music. It was Tommy. The woman was old Mrs. McNulty, Joan recognized at a glance.
The girls breathed audible sighs. However, relief at finding Tommy was drowned out by other mixed emotions when Joan remembered about Mrs. McNulty.
“Come away, Tommy.” She held out her hands. “I don’t believe that lady likes boys.”
But this cunning, clean little Tommy had captured the old witch. He refused to move, and snuggled closer against Mrs. McNulty’s flat old chest.
“But I do!” contradicted the old lady. “I never saw this child before, but I know that he has a soul for music.”
“He’s the same one that we brought to see you yesterday,” Joan told her.
“Yesterday!” repeated Mrs. McNulty. “I don’t recall. Oh, yes, when I had that terrific headache. Are you the girls who called? And is this precious child that nasty little boy?”
The girls nodded.
“I never would have believed it.” Every line of the old face looked surprise.
“How did he get here?” they both asked, then.