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 "That would be Eddie," said Edna. "But listen, I came to tell you about this today, though I didn't intend to spring it before I was half inside the door. I got a lot of furniture, you know. When Marty was alive his younger brother and his mother lived with us; so we had more rooms. It's down the cellar in my house, and it wouldn't cost you a cent. There's beds and chairs and bureaus and tables and everything. I can even fix you on sheets and other household stuff."

Dot's eyes shone. A home of her own. A real home to settle and to re-settle, to clean and mind and in which to put up cretonne curtains.

"Oh, Edna, you darling!"

Dot made an impetuous rush, but Edna held her off with a cautioning hand. "Hold on, Kid, don't holler yet. Remember you got Eddie to convince."

"Oh, he'll do it. He must do it when I tell him how unhappy I've been."

Edna considered Dot's chances. "Well, he might," she said, "but don't die if he says no."

"Three rooms would be plenty," said Dot. "A bedroom, living-room, and kitchen. I couldn't go over fifty a month though. Where would you look if you were me? I don't want to get anywheres near Jim and my father."

Edna said not a word. She knew it wasn't important to Dot whether or not she was answered. She saw that Dot was already laying the linoleum in the most perfectly white kitchen that had ever existed outside of a Saturday Evening Post advertisement. But she was wrong. Dot was only down to the shelving—it would be white and shiny with pictures of little blue coffee grinders on it. Edna was far more troubled than Dot about Eddie's reaction to the idea. He would say no unless his humor was better than Edna had ever seen it.

"How much are electric bills a month?" Dot asked.

"About two dollars too much," said Edna.