She sniffed and walked into the marble lobby of the school, which was crowded and noisy with the talk of fifty busy people. There were two uniformed men at card tables; one was in a fireman's queer, boxy uniform cap and the other must be this Brayer. He was talking to a boy scout--at a time like this!--but she waited until he was finished. Then she burst out, "I've got to have a car. I'm Mrs. S. Goudeket of Goudeket's Green Acres. I've got to get back to my place. Now." The mustached old man looked up. "Sorry, ma'am," he said. "We need all the cars for public service. Maybe later after some help comes in. Why don't you--" "Did you hear who I am?" she yelled. "I don't give a damn who you are," he yelled back, standing up. "The town is drowning. People are sick. People are looting and burning. We're trying to hold it together for a few hours until help comes. Don't come here grabbing for a car. Go and find something useful to do. They need help in the hospital, people to make beds and carry slops. You can do that, or if you don't want to do that you can at least get out of everybody's way!" He sat down and turned to a man wearing a handkerchief around his arm and immediately was in thoughtful, intense conversation with him. Mrs. Goudeket recoiled a step, then walked slowly from the lobby. Maybe--maybe he was right. There was Polly, waiting for her. She said to the girl, "No cars. We should go work in the hospital they set up for a while, Polly. They need help." Polly Chesbro nodded. Together they walked to the improvised excuse for a hospital. Mrs. Goudeket was thinking: Mr. Goudeket wouldn't have stormed up to that busy old man. He would have seen that making beds in the hospital right now is more important than whether Green Acres is in the black this year. Mr. Goudeket may have been right about more things than I ever knew before.... She wondered idly how the orange groves in Palestine for which they had donated year after year were growing. * * * * * Ten minutes later Sharon was at the desk, telling Chief Brayer: "You've got to. He's the head of three committees. He can turn the faucet and a million, five million dollars runs into Hebertown. Or he can leave the faucet shut. Think of your town, Chief!" Brayer sighed and wished Henry were there. At last he beckoned to one of the deputies and said, "Take two men. Go to the new Fielding place, that little ranch-house thing on Sullivan. Turn everybody out. We need it for Congressman Akslund and his, uh, staff. Leave a man there to see that nobody sneaks back in. Better leave a man there as long as the Congressman's there, for a guard and in case there are any messages." "Thanks, Chief," Sharon said warmly. "You're doing the right thing. I'll just wait here; they'll pick me up. And can you let us have a guide to show us the way to the house?" "Sure," said Brayer. "God, it must be smooth to be a congressman!" * * * * *