There was no talk of Sue Davis at the evening meal. Tom Carlin felt through his pockets.
“Care to walk to the corner, Joe? I’m out of tobacco.”
Joe thought: “He wants to talk to me alone.”
“You told Mother something would turn up,” his father said as soon as they reached the street. “I’ve been trying to figure out if you really meant that. Men usually try to shield the women at home from their business worries. Was what happened to-day a situation that turns up habitually in radio or was it serious?”
Joe did not hesitate. “It was serious.”
“Munson didn’t want you originally and has resented you. Is that what you mean?”
Joe nodded.
“Do you think you’re out of the show permanently?”
“I don’t know. I might never have had the part if Sonny Baker had been in town last month.” He had never before talked to his father so freely and so easily, man to man, without restraint.
The owner of the neighborhood store greeted them. “Glad to hear you back on the air, Joe. You acted good—better than I ever heard you before. Nothing like a little vacation.”