"I told you. I'm at mother's! Oh, Lester! who are all those people?"
"What people? Ginny, tell me what you're talking about!"
"We've got to get over there right away!" Ginny said shrilly. "I called the house just a little while ago—mother insisted, because of the baby—and this woman with a terribly sexy voice answered. She wanted to know with whom I wished to speak, and I could hear a lot of people talking—all sorts of people! Oh, Lester!"
"Oh, Lord!" Lester said. "I'll get over there right away. It might be the police!"
"They'll arrest us for child neglect, and everyone will know about it! Come by mother's and pick me up, Lester! Hurry!"
"Do I have to face your mother at a time like this?"
"I'll wait for you outside—on the sidewalk! Hurry, Lester, please!"
"All right!" Lester said frantically and hung up.
True to her word, Ginny, her overnight case in her hand, was waiting on the sidewalk when Lester pulled up at the curb. But so was her mother. Mrs. Feeney was a thin-nosed woman with high cheek bones and a tongue as swift and venomous as an adder's. For the moment, her naturally sallow complexion had become quite ruddy. Lester, pulling up the brake, closed his eyes briefly to steel himself. Mrs. Feeney jutted her head through the window.