em. He had not meant to make her cry. Why did she have to cry so
easy? She hadn't used to.

Jerry couldn't figure out what had gotten into Cathy lately. All this
caring about how she looked. All this fussing about clothes. And the
way she blinked her eyes at boys. It was enough to make a person sick.
Less than a year ago he had heard Cathy say that girls who used powder
and lipstick were dopes. Now she herself was carrying a lipstick in
her handbag. Jerry guessed she had not sunk so low she used eye makeup
but he wouldn't put it past her almost any time. Not long ago he and
Cathy had liked to do the same things, liked the same things. Now they
didn't even agree about movies. Cathy actually didn't mind love in a
picture. She even liked pictures in which the hero kissed a girl, and
Jerry could hardly bear to see a cowboy kiss a horse. Jerry missed the
Cathy he used to know. The way she was now made him mad.

One thing was sure. The attic was no longer a safe place for Mr.
Bartlett's money. Not with Cathy snooping around, for she was a good
finder. Jerry went to the garment bag, got the money out of the white
shoe--my but there was getting to be a lot--and put the bills in one
pants pocket and crammed the silver into another. He would have to
find another hiding place. But where?

Jerry went downstairs. Cathy had joined her mother and Andy at the
window. They were watching the movers.

"Usually you can get an idea about what people are like by their
furniture," Jerry heard his mother say, "but I never saw such a
conglomeration go into any house. Our new neighbor's name is Bullfinch
and he's a retired college professor. His having a lot of books I can
understand but why a jungle gym? He doesn't have any children. There
are just he and his wife."

Jerry would have avoided being near the family until he had found a
new hiding place for Mr. Bartlett's money if Cathy had not exclaimed,
"Look at that! Assorted sizes of cages."

Jerry had to come and look, too, then. He saw one of the movers going
in the house next door with a small gilded cage in one hand and a
picture frame in the other. After him came the other moving man with a
cage so large it was all he could carry.

"The smaller one could be for a bird but what on earth could the big
one be for?" Mrs. Martin was puzzled.

"Maybe he has a chimp for a pet," Jerry contributed.

"Heaven forbid!" gasped his mother.

"But chimps are wonderful pets. Remember reading a