“Is the little angel asleep?” murmured Looby Loo.
“I think so.”
“■Did she learn her dates?”
“Yes she did.”
“Are you going out tonight?”
“Don’t think so.”
“What’s new?”
“What about that boy?”
“Oh, he’s not the one.”
“And they’re holding him?”
“They made a mistake.”
“There’s a lot of prejudice around—”
“I know.”
“So you really think—”
“I think so.”
“They do.”
“What will they do?”
“Release him—I hope.”
“The poor boy.”
“I told them what I thought.”
“You did?”
“That Captain sent the boy to see me—to see what I thought—и
“Why didn’t they let him go?” *
‘They’re up the creek.”
“Well, you did right—”
Tin pretty sure I did—”
14How are you?”
"Looby Loo—”
They kissed. A long one.
“Ummmmmmmm—you—”
“Love you—”
She said, at last, “Want to watch this—V “Yeh—let’s have a few laughs—”
“Oh—Mother wants us to dinner Sunday—”
“Sunday? Good.”
“Shall we go after church?”
“Good idea. Yeh.”
“Dad’s feeling a lot better.”
“I’m just not letting you watch this!” she said, with a soft laugh.
She snuggled up to him even more. She kept quiet now. They watched the show.
“Is Saturday the funeral?” She murmured, once.
“That’s what I heard.”
She sighed, they watched the show. Sheba slinked in and made herself at home on her favorite easy chair—the best one. They both smiled at her.. . .
After the TV show, Tiger retired to his den for a while. He had a few little things to do. But soon, in bed, he would be seeing Looby Loo. “Don't forget ” she had said, smiling warmly at him, giving him one more sweet kiss. He had grinned and said, "You kidding?” And left for his den.
No sooner had he arrived there though than the phone rang. It was Proffer, no less.
“What’s new boy?” The wonder said.
“Nothing much.”
“How did Practice go?”
“Oh, great. Those boys are really great. They’re something. Harry.”
“What about Jim Green?”
Pretty Maids All in a Row 281 “Are they still holding him?”
“Holy Hell are they—I hear his lawyer can’t even see him—all kinds of hell is breaking over that—I hear—I guess you didn’t hear—”
“I didn’t.”
“You still sticking to your theory, boy?”
“Right, I am. He’s not the man.”
“They’re gonna look awful silly—”
“You know it. They can’t help it though.”
“Listen, Mike, what about this funeral Saturday?”
“The whole school should go.”
“All together?”
“Why not?”
“We’ll have to work it out.”
“It’s in the morning, isn’t it?”
“Yeh—eleven o’clock.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Well—you don’t want to force anybody—”
“If they get there early, say about eight o’clock, why— maybe everybody could file by—before they close the coffin—that is, everybody who wants to—”
“Right. That’s right. That’s what I thought.”
“I guess I better announce it in Assembly tomorrow—” “Yeh, I think you ought to.”
“What about flowers?”
“Well—I guess the best idea would be for each Home Room to send some. Don’t you think?”
“I guess that’s the best way.”
A silence followed.
“Boy, if your theory’s right, Mike, we’re still in the soup.”
“Uh huh.”
Another silence.
“How’s Hilda?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine.”
Silence.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike boy. Haven’t heard anything from Surcher, have you?”
“Not a thing.”
“Just wondering if they’re going to be around tomorrow—”
“Haven’t heard, Harry.”
“O.K.—I’ll see you, boy—’’He paused—“Who’d you put
in at End?"
“Joe Moran—Not bad—”
Proffer chuckled.
“O.K.—See you, boy.”
“So long, Harry.”
Hanging up, Tiger sighed. He also shook his head, slowly, from side to side. Then he sat down at his desk. He unzipped his handy slim briefcase and pulled out a few things he had brought home to work on. First of all, the book he had been reading earlier in the day. He wanted to examine it a little further tonight, here in his den, before tucking into bed. Then a folder or two, of this and that, including his Schedule of Activities for the next day, which he wanted to fill in. He mused over that, now, as a matter of fact. Ten-thirty of course Marie Amis, as arranged, so he penciled that in right away. He grinned, looking forward to that. He checked his notepad to see what else was on. He didn't have to write down to contact Surcher of course. That he would do first thing, probably right after Assembly. He wondered if Mummer’s four million fellow Masons, among other things, would rise to his defense, or contribute to it, at the minimum. A fat lot of good it would do him, in any event, as far as his early retirement from the school was concerned. That he knew, Tiger mused, grinning away. What a character! Where would he peddle his Teaching Machine next, he wondered? Mr. Programmed Instruction Queer, Tiger chuckled away there, thinking of him. What about Crispwell? Tiger mused over that one. Maybe he should see if old Ponce had any interesting scoop on that one. What a kid. That great kid though. His new plays had worked beautifully. Tiger viewed the future, blissfully almost. In spite of everything. . . . Peggy Linski at nine-fifteen, after Assembly and that contact with Surcher. She was completing Part II of the Brooder of course. He jotted that in. Was she the most promising of the younger Majorettes or wasn’t she? She looked a real sweetie out there on the field, or anywhere, for that matter, in front of the band. He grinned. That's the only way
Pretty Maids All in a Row 283 a girl can get to wear a miniskirt in Sawyersville. Tiger was more than fond of her. Those Polish blonds were something that never failed to captivate him. They were a class of their own alright, without a doubt of it. Marjorie was lucky she was graduating actually, or that kid could press her pretty hard for her job alright. Tiger was still grinning, musing over the complex intrigues and processes of high-school kids’ social life. Sandy was scheduled for twelve o’clock, he noted, and penciled that in. He stopped a moment, thinking over that one, for it was pushing close to lunch hour, wasn’t it, and maybe—but in any case it wouldn’t take all that long to give her the Bernkrokker, that was the beauty of that inventory. When had he last tested her, that talented kid? He checked up on that. . . . Then there was lunch and Health Ed and a little bit of Phys Ed and at three p.m. or a little after, he made it after, Barbara Brook, whom he hadn't seen for a couple of weeks, at least. He hoped her problems were coming along alright, she actually was pretty bright. Pretty and bright. He grinned, warmly. ... He thought of Jeannie Bonni—but then remembered she wasn’t due in until the following day, which in a way was good because it was cutting things a little fine again, though it could be worked in, he knew, if anything could. Who had a sweeter smile than her? Looby Loo? Maybe. He felt warm, and content, thinking of Jeannie—and Looby Loo. Soon he would be seeing her. He checked over the whole schedule again, carefully, making sure everything fitted in right. He realized he would have to make allowances for a phone call or two, probably a visitor or two. Proffer most probably, but possibly others too. Jim Green, maybe. He might be around tomorrow. He hoped so. It would be interesting to hear his account of State Police treatment and technique. It would. He sighed, feeling sorry for that lad. But, once again, thinking, it was an experience, it was life, wasn’t it. . . . Look what Pve been through. ... In a pensive, almost melancholy mood, he checked over a few more things and then pushed himself back from his desk and went to his easy chair, with his book. He wouldn’t keep Looby Loo waiting too long, but he did want to read just a little bit. He sat down, the book in his lap. He sat there like that for a minute, just thinking about that sweetheart of a wife of his, and his Jane, now asleep no doubt and God knows dreaming of what, and that lazy, sensuous, absolutely selfish little animal Sheba, that treasure cat. ... He thought about Practice. What a Team, what a pool of material, how could Sawyersville be so lucky, anyhow? Year after year, those kids, what material. And Ponce! He grinned fondly. What a fantastic kid. He had finally casually mentioned his ideas and hopes and dreams and vision to him. The lad certainly had seemed responsive, his eyes, his whole face had brightened. Four years though. Five. That was a long time. He hoped to God he could maintain that responsiveness all that time. A sharp kid like that—no telling who might latch on to him at college and spirit him away, somewhere. God knows those corporations were always combing the campuses for the best. But—there was a good chance, he knew. Ponce was a kid with deep roots, and those roots were right here, in Sawyersville, he knew. He wouldn’t desert the old place that easily, he was pretty sure. Time would tell. Time, Time, man's unique Hell. , . , Four years. What might happen to the team? Tiger found himself growing a little bit apprehensive. Sometimes it happened to him. Would the pool dry up? That was the worst question. For a moment Tiger was more than just a little apprehensive. How could it? That was the next question, and Tiger began feeling better. ... He knew it couldn't. .... He felt a lot better, in fact pretty good. He opened the book now.