“I have twenty now,” she said, like a proud mother. “Look here!”
Tommy, one chubby hand thrust under a flushed cheek was peacefully sleeping, clad only in his new underwear. The girls were surprised to see that he was in a low, wooden bed, instead of an iron crib like the rest. The bed was of dark wood and the headpiece had a carved bird on it.
“Is this bed a new donation?” asked Joan.
“Yes, indeed,” the matron nodded. “Master Tommy’s sleeping in the bed of Mrs. McNulty’s father’s father. She had it sent over from the Historical Building this morning. Said it might as well be somewhere where it would be used.”
Oh! That’d make a great feature story for Tim! Maybe Lefty would come and take a picture of Tommy in the antique bed. Joan’s thoughts ran on.
“And look at this,” the matron pointed to a tiny Victrola on the floor beside Tommy—a child’s toy that really played little records. “Mrs. McNulty is convinced that he is to be a musician.”
“It’ll be a scoop for Tim,” she told Amy, as they walked home.
Amy looked blank.
“Don’t you know what a scoop is?” Joan asked.
“Of course I do.” Amy tossed her head. “It’s a coal basket.”