"All right, ma, dearie, but stop gabbin' about it. I've got to look good and there's no sense in gettin' me all worked up over a plate o' beans."
As she leaned to study herself in the piece of broken mirror, she noticed with fear the ravages of a wakeful night; puffs under her eyes and a dry pallor of her lips. "I'll need two cups o' coffee to steady myself," she said, turning to her mother. "Look at me, I'm a sight! My nerves is all on ends."
Mrs. Flynn, almost as feverish as Minnie, tried to convince her that it was only the overhead gaslight which threw the unbecoming shadows upon her face. "I wouldn't stand there worryin' about it. You'd better begin dressin' right away. Look, dear, I got everything ready for you."
On the chair beside the bed Minnie's suit had been carefully laid out (sponged and pressed the night before by her mother); her dotted Swiss shirtwaist (which Nettie had washed and ironed); and a pair of new tan gloves (Jimmie's contribution). Under the chair were Minnie's shoes (carefully polished by her father). Pete had done nothing, but Elsie came over the night before to loan Minnie her skunk scarf and the lace handkerchief which the girls in the Odds and Ends had given her for a wedding present.
After Minnie slipped off her nightgown she bathed her body, even her legs and feet, in a liberal sprinkling of Carnation Talcum Powder (Elsie also loaned her this accessory, which had been part of her trousseau). The powder gave forth a sickish sweet odor as it caked upon her moist flesh. Mrs. Flynn, who was starting out of the room to set the table so Minnie could have her breakfast served with some style, as befitting a motion picture actress, paused at the doorway and watched her daughter. She spoke with some concern: "You're sure you're tellin' us the truth, Minnie, about goin' to get a job in the movies, and not—not"
