I considered killing Caroline and leaving her battered body on the lawn of one of the houses we were passing.

Caroline knew I wouldn’t have noticed, because it was a fine point not many people would get, but in Sally’s Lullaby in Act Two, at “Leap fox, hoot owl, wail warbler sweet,” Judy was all over the place, and as Caroline had a very tricky succession of chromatic chords to play there was nothing she could do to drag Judy back, and she just hoped it would be better tomorrow night.

You cannot have a sister like Caroline without picking up a few tricks. I asked if there was any chance that I could see the play again on Saturday night?

“So you can go and moon at Judy again?” she said. In another age Caroline would have been burnt as a witch; she could smell what you were thinking, especially when you wanted to conceal it. I set aside plans for burning her then and there.

“Judy who? Oh, the Sally girl. Don’t be silly. No, I just thought it was good, and I’d like to see it again. And I was thinking you didn’t really get the recognition you deserved tonight. If I came tomorrow night, I could send you a bouquet, and it could be handed up over the footlights at the end, and people would know what you were worth.”

“Not a bad idea, but where would you get any money to send a bouquet? You’re broke.”

“I’d wondered if you could possibly see your way to making me a small loan. As it’s really for you, anyhow.”

“What’s the need? Why can’t I just send myself a bouquet? That would cut out the middleman.”

“Because it’s ridiculous and undignified and cheap and generally two-bit and no-account, and if Netty heard of it, as she would from me, she would make your life a burden. Whereas if the bouquet comes from me, nobody need know, and if they find out they’ll think what a sweet brother I am. But I’ll put a big ticket on it with ‘Homage to those eloquent fingers, from Arturo Toscanini’ if you like.”

It worked. I thought it would be a cheap dollar bouquet, but I had underrated Caroline’s vanity, and she handed over a nice, resounding five bucks as a tribute to herself. This was splendid because I had craftily decided to sequester some portion of whatever I got from Caroline, and use it to send another bouquet to Judy Wolff. With five dollars I could do the thing in style.

Florists were more grasping than I had supposed, but after shopping around on Saturday I managed quite a showy tribute for Caroline, of chrysanthemums with plenty of fern to eke them out, for a dollar seventy-five. With the remaining three twenty-five, to which I added fifty cents I ground out of Netty by pretending I had to get a couple of special pencils for making maps, I bought roses for Judy. Not the best roses; I had no money for those; but indubitable roses.