“A prophecy, maybe. People used to have prophetic visions. Maybe, some time in the future—”
The cab stopped to let two of the passengers out. Irene lived in a beautiful neighborhood. The houses, like the people who lived in them, were all different. Behind them were tall trees, outlined against the night sky, and a brook that reminded Judy of Dry Brook at home. An innocent brook and yet, when it had poured its flood waters into the pond above the Roulsville dam ... Judy shuddered at the memory.
“Horace dreamed the dam would break—and it did!” she said suddenly. “I can still hear the roar and feel the horror—before I knew the people would be saved. Irene, there could be another flood—”
“What flood?”
“A flood of advertising. Don’t laugh. Flo asked me to talk you into accepting that offer—”
“There’s no need,” Irene broke in. “I’ve already decided. Flo’s right. It’s silly of me to feel the way I do about commercials. If I can get a sponsor there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be on the big network. Dale thinks I should. There he is at the window motioning for us to hurry,” Irene observed as the cab stopped to let them out. “Oh, I do hope little Judy is all right. There’s a light in her room.”
There were lights all over the house. Dale’s anxious face told Judy that something was wrong. He started to say something to her, but Irene broke in.
“It’s little Judy. I know it.”
Saying this, she hurried into the baby’s room with Judy close behind her. Little Judy was awake. Apparently she had reached over and turned on the light by herself.
“I heard Daddy on the tefelone,” she announced solemnly. Then, with a little jump, she landed in Irene’s arms and began to hug her. Judy could see that she was perfectly all right. But something was wrong. She could feel it.