“And your instinct or whatever you choose to call it was correct.” Lynne put her arm around her young assistant.
Yes, it was a small triumph for Anne and for Judy as well. Mr. Lurie strutted about the camp accepting compliments, he who was so modest about his own work. And Mrs. Lurie, still sitting in the hot sun, smiled with pride whenever she caught her daughter’s eye.
Judy was grateful her mother had come. She knew it entailed her giving up an important rehearsal that morning and that she would have to make it up that afternoon and again in the evening. Her debut with the entire Festival Orchestra was only five days off. It was from Lynne and Allen that Judy learned how much depended on this performance. Success might lead to an engagement at the City Center Opera Company of New York! As Judy mopped her own moist face, she thought more than once that her mother ought to get out of that sun.
At last the picnic, the games, the excitement were over! The parents took the children home. Allen was busy burning rubbish while Lynne and Judy were methodically taking down the exhibits.
Judy was thankful the tension of the last few days was behind her. Now she would have the leisure to think. Why hadn’t she heard from Karl in five days? Had she said anything? Absent-mindedly she fingered a puppet and threw it into the rubbish heap.
“What are you doing?” Lynne asked sharply. “Those puppets are not to be thrown out! The children expect to take them home.”
She glanced at Judy’s troubled face, then said with her usual gentleness, “Why are you scowling? I thought you’d be happy. Everyone praised you—”
“It’s nothing, Lynne. I guess it’s the heat.”
“But it’s much cooler now.” Lynne’s eyes twinkled. She thought of one subject certain to chase the gloom from Judy’s face.
“By the way,” she said with affected nonchalance, “guess who I met this morning at the post office. Karl!”