"James was pitching. But you'll never guess who was catching."
Bill was being silly, just like the big baby he was. At his age, to think that a children's baseball game was important! But she didn't mind humoring him. She guessed, "That big puffy-faced boy from down the street, with the hair so blond it's almost invisible?"
"No." He leaned back, waiting for her to guess again.
"I'm sure I haven't any idea who it was," she said. "But does it matter? According to Barbara—"
"It was Reardon, the cop. You know, the one with the stomach."
"Reardon?" She stared at him. "Why, he's been chasing them off that lot every day. He hates kids. You must be mistaken."
"I'm not mistaken. He was catching there, acting like a kid himself, when who should come along out of a police car but Lieutenant Puffinger from the local precinct. Well, you should have heard him when he saw what Reardon was doing. I'll bet those kids learned a few words they didn't know before. It seems that Reardon hadn't made his call from the street box and the cars were scouting around trying to find out what had become of him. And here he was playing baseball!"
"Imagine that!" said Carrie. But her heart was still elsewhere. She said, "Barbara says...."
So they talked of how much money to send Barbara. And Carrie thought that nobody could tell her how to manage a husband. You pretended to listen to him and whatever he said you let go in one ear and out the other, while you kept your mind on the really important thing. But she was to remember Reardon later.