Minnie flew for her hat and coat. "Do you have to pay cash there?" she screamed to her mother above the roar and rattle of the passing elevated. "All I got left is thirty-five cents."
"Thirty-five cents! Why, Minnie Flynn!" her mother gasped, "what have you done with all your money?"
"I got no time for that now. Don't stand there gapin' at me, ma. Do you want that swell girl to get here and find the house lookin' like a pigsty? Where's Net?"
"Maybe that's her comin' up the steps now. I gave her a dollar to get a bottle of Horse Liniment for rheumatism. She's got change from it."
"Nettie! Nettie! Is that you?"
"What's the excitement, ma?" Nettie came trudging up the stairs leaning heavily on the wobbly banister. "House on fire?"
The neighbors in the flat below heard Mrs. Flynn's breathless answer:
"That rich girl Minnie's been goin' with is comin' home for dinner. How much change you got from that dollar, Nettie?"
"Fifty cents."
"Give it to me, quick!"
"What's the hurry?"
"Min's got to get to Shultz's before it closes. We can't sit a girl like that down to pigs' knuckles and cabbage. That's the girl that used to have the three niggers. . . . My God, you've only got forty cents!"
Minnie came tearing into the room. "'Lo, Net," she cried excitedly, "give me the change, quick! And while I'm gone, set the table nice with the red fringe tablecloth and the paper carnations in the center of it."
