"Settle what, Minnie?" Mr. Flynn turned toward her and his voice was querulous.
"Oh, nothin', pa. Just a little promise to ma about Billy MacNally."
"Don't call it no promise to me," cried Mrs. Flynn from the kitchen. "The first thing you know you'll be lettin' everybody think it was me that drove my daughter outta my own house."
"I like Billy MacNally," ventured Mr. Flynn with nervous uncertainty, "but Minnie, you're too young to be thinkin' of gettin' married."
"I ain't no younger than ma was."
Mr. Flynn moistened his lips. "That's just what I want to tell you, Minnie. If your ma and I had to do it all over again we would of waited until I'd got a good start. There was even times when I didn't have a job."
"I ain't afraid o' hard work," answered Minnie, polishing her fingernails on the palm of her hand.
"Neither was your ma, Minnie. But there was times when it looked as if we'd have to let you kids go to a home, we was that hard up."
"Say, pa," Minnie squinted her eyes to admire the polish—"You and ma oughta do team work in vaudeville. You two can sob the neatest duet I ever heard."
Jimmy, leaning back in his chair, reached for the paper. He put his feet upon the edge of the table, and was soon lost in the sporting page. Minnie leaned against the window, waiting for the familiar whistle.
Hesselman had kept Billy at the shop going over accounts, so he didn't come until ten o'clock. A cold wind whistled
