Little Percent Taxi, which had blossomed into a travel bureau, secured the necessary plane tickets from Denver to New York. In two days Minna and Judy would leave, travel over the famous Independence Pass to Denver, conveyed there by a Little Percent Taxi. “The charges for the ride,” John cynically observed, “were far from little.”
Minna began to pack. There were frequent interruptions, last-minute interviews, and conferences about the coveted appearance in New York.
Judy too had things to do—her farewell appearance at camp—the library book to be returned and, with the dollar deposit, purchase the gift for little Willie. She paid a hurried visit to Uncle Yahn with the hope of seeing Karl. It was an almost unbearable disappointment that Karl was nowhere in sight and she had to be content with his uncle’s easy assurance that he would give him her message.
The morning before their departure, Judy and her mother were in the kitchen packing the remaining utensils.
“This pressure cooker weighs a ton, Mother. Why do you always take it with you?”
“I wouldn’t know how to keep house without it, so don’t drop it,” her mother answered, looking up from her own labors. Her eyes rested on her daughter.
“Goodness, I’ll have to get you some new bras as soon as we get home. You’ve developed a bosom in these two months!”
Judy was flattered by this reference to her budding curves, but she looked at her mother, “Is my body the only thing that has developed?” she asked hopefully. “There is such a thing as mind as well as matter.”
Mrs. Lurie tried to repress a smile. “You’ve developed in other ways, matured. Perhaps it was the regular duties at camp and its responsibilities.” She looked thoughtfully at her daughter. “Anyhow, whatever the reason,” she said with unwonted tenderness, “it was good to have you with us this summer. And when I was ill—I don’t know how we’d have managed without you.”
Mrs. Lurie was undemonstrative. She knew herself to be reserved almost to a fault, and she secretly envied the mothers who could display their affection. She now added a little self-consciously, “I hope, Judy, that you liked being with us as much as Father and I loved having you. It’s been our first summer together in years.”