“I was just thinking maybe I should warm some milk. He won’t touch the nice bologna sandwich we brought along.”
Miss Simms shuddered visibly. “Maybe it’s just as well the little man refused it. Why don’t you and Mrs. Lurie see about the milk. Miss Clark and I will amuse the baby.” She firmly took hold of the protesting child.
“High-diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle—” on and on went the strangely sweet tones, while Miss Clark bounced the baby up and down in what even Judy knew was thoroughly unorthodox fashion. The baby quieted ... smiled.
“Judy,” Fran shouted. “Come over here and lend a hand. We’ve got to get the car squarely on the road before we can take off the tire. Lucky she’s light. You, Judy, grab the front with Jim. I’ll take the ditch side. One, two, three, heave—” The car was set on the road.
In half an hour tube and tire were patched, air pumped in, and the spare examined.
“Everything’s O.K. Where’d you say you were heading for, Jim?”
“Los Angeles. I’ve a good job I’m to take over in two weeks. A lucky break. I was laid off back in Detroit for two months.”
Mrs. Jim joined them and placed the sleeping baby into the car bed. Her bundles, neatly packed by the faithful, were beside her.
“Our only worry,” Jim went on, “is where we’re going to live. The company couldn’t promise a thing.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve got to take our chances.”
“Not have a place to live—and with a baby—that’s awful!” Judy exclaimed involuntarily.