THE NEXT DAY, MOTHER DECIDED SHE HAD CHOSEN THE WRONG upholstery fabric. I had to lug the bolts back down to the store and exchange them. Not, of course, without endless time-consuming consultation with Mrs. Fenniman. I caught a glimpse of Dad as Mother and I drove to the fabric store, so at least I knew nothing had happened to him. I discovered, to my vast irritation, that Barry had brought down all his tools and set up a shop in Professor Donleavy’s garage, thus giving him less reason than ever to leave town. Professor Donleavy was about as thrilled as I was, but several relatives and neighbors had already given Barry commissions. I tried calling Dad when I got home, with no luck, and was up until two-thirty addressing invitations.