An expression of tranquillity settled on Mr. Haley's face. The children were safe at home.
Jim strode into view. His coat and vest were already off, and he was yanking at his tie as he passed through on his way to the room that he shared with his father. He was tall and muscular. His features were rough and uneven. When he smiled Dot liked him, but most times he was grimly sober, and she pictured him in the machine shop being foreman to tousled-haired, sweaty-faced men, and she pictured them hating him.
"Hello, Kid." He pulled Dot's hair as he passed, and she followed to his room.
"I waited up for you," she said. "Edna wants me to tell you that she is having her cousin Will at her house tomorrow night. She says don't come if you ain't prepared to be nice to him."
Jim threw his coat over a chair. It fell to the floor, and neither of them picked it up.
"All right," Jim said.
"Are you going, anyway?"
Dot felt it her privilege in the office of messenger to make inquiries.
"What's that to you?"
"Nothing, I guess."
"You guessed right." Jim was eleven years older than Dot, and he could be as rude as he pleased. "Get the deuce out of here. Going to get undressed."
Dot went hurriedly. She was free to go to bed now. Her mission was accomplished. She stood uncertainly in the dining-room for a second, then walked toward the radio-set. It was the only thing in the room that was not golden oak. It was mahogany stain and had three important-looking dials.
Dot lifted the lid quietly and looked inside. She wanted to see how it was made.
