"And say, listen," said Vonnie, just before she closed the door, "next month I'm going to move to Two Hundred and Forty-second Street."
CHAPTER XIV
Vonnie came to the flat the next Sunday. The moment might have embarrassed Peter if it had been anybody else.
But Vonnie had such an imperious and lofty way of rising above all things traditionally embarrassing to Peter and snooting down at them that she carried him with her. At least part way.
"Why haven't you got the young Giant in his ball park over there," said Vonnie pointing to the Stockade.
"I'm changing him."
"No game," said Vonnie, "wet grounds."
"Get out of that. Never had a baby in my life," she continued, briskly rapping her knuckles on the woodwork above her head, "but I can't be worse at that job than you are."
She pushed Peter away, but did not begin on the business in hand immediately. "He's a good kid. A fine husky kid. I know now why you asked me here. You figured if I wanted one for myself you'd let me know where to apply."
"Never mind the compliments," said Peter. "Change his diapers."