and graft a couple o' bolts offen you, if you can dig 'em up for us."
"You sure can, Jimmy." Mr. Flynn glowed with pleasure when any one of the family turned to him for advice or help. Flushing with timid importance he tapped Jimmy on the shoulder. "There's that fellow Mitchell down to our place, that new pipe fitter, Jimmy. He's a regular wiz when it comes to fixing up mechanical contraptions."
"Thanks, pa. I'll run MacNally over there tomorrow. He says"
"Billy MacNally?" interrupted Minnie.
"Yeh—who'd you suppose it was?"
"Why—I didn't know—" Minnie paused. Her large eyes narrowed in fury. "I like his nerve buyin' motorbikes when he couldn't even afford to get me a dinky turquoise engagement ring." Minnie was troubled; she had told all the girls at the store about the ring and had gone so far as to describe it just as if the first instalment were already paid on it.
By this time the dinner was almost ready. The rooms were filled with a thin smoke and reeked of many odors; frying grease, onions and boiling coffee.
Nettie, with lugubrious self-pity, had risen and gone into the bedroom. Pete sprawled on the sofa in her place and read the comic supplement out loud, while Jimmy played on the harmonica, and Michael Flynn helped his wife set the table.
Minnie was getting ready for the evening, because at eight-fifteen she expected Billy. She combed her hair and rolled it into so many puffs that it looked like a bright red, padded cushion. She re-bandolined the two curls that lay flat on her cheeks and again touched up her eyelashes.
"Puffs certainly do set your hair off, Min," ventured Nettie as a peace offering after a long, sullen silence. "I sure wisht
