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"Tom's all set, at least for a start," Dad says.

"He's going to start Tuesday, right after Labor Day. Palumbo can use him on odd jobs and deliveries, especially over the Jewish holidays, and then if he can learn the business, he'll keep him on."

"Never thought I'd go in for flower-arranging." Tom grins.

"But it might be fun. I'm pretty fair at any kind of handiwork."

Remembering how quick he unlocked the padlock to get Cat out in the cellar, I agree.

He starts for his room after supper, and we all say "good luck," "have a good time," and stuff.

Things are really looking up.

I get up early the next morning and help Mom button up around the house and get the car loaded before Pop gets home in the afternoon.

He hoped to get off early, and I've been pacing around snapping my fingers for a couple of hours when he finally arrives about six o'clock.

It's a hot day again.

I don't say anything about Cat.

I just dive in the back seat and put him behind a suitcase and hope he'll behave.

Pop doesn't seem to notice him.

Anyway he doesn't say anything.

It's mighty hot, and traffic is thick, with everyone pouring out of the city.

But at least we're moving along, until we get out on the Hutchinson River Parkway, where some dope has to run out of gas.

All three lanes of traffic are stopped.

We sit in the sun.

Pop looks around, hunting for something to get sore about, and sees the back windows are closed.

He roars, "Crying out loud, can't we get some air, at least? Open those windows!"

I open them and try to keep my hand over Cat, but if you try to hold him really, it makes him restless.

For the moment he's sitting quiet, looking disgusted.

We sit for about ten minutes, and Pop turns off the motor.

You can practically hear us sweating in the silence.

Engines turn on ahead of us, and there seems to be some sign of hope.

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