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 done today if you don't want to, though we're crazy to hear about it. I guess you're too tired to talk, ain't you?"

"I'm awful tired."

"I should say she would be," came Nettie's defense. "Al says it's no cinch to act."

"Did you act very much today, Min?"

"Not at all," she answered wearily, "but I guess I will tomorrow."

"She'll act tomorrow," repeated Mr. Flynn, "just think of it." He had only a vague idea of what acting was, but it was a prodigal profession when Minnie could earn more in a day than an experienced pipe fitter.

"What do you say we dish up, ma?"

"All right, Jimmy dear. I guess our little girl's half starved."

"No, I ain't, mama, and I don't want to eat. Had a hot lunch over to the studio, hash with eggs on it."

"Do they give you lunch, too?" cried Mr. Flynn. "Hash with eggs on it? Honest, I don't see how they can do it, Annie."

"Easy," answered Minnie with her first smile, "you pay for it."

"Pay for it," sneered Jimmy. "Well, if I don't call that snide. They ought to give it to you. They make enough offen you, Al says. He told me it was something fierce the way they keep you sweatin' under the bright lights and don't care a hang for union hours, either. He's worked all day and half the night for the same pay. . . . What'd they soak you for the lunch, Min?"

"I don't know. A fellow named Letcher treated me and a personal friend of mine, Eleanor Grant. Say, ma, she used to have a flat with three nigger servants in it."

"Oh, my God, used she?" Mrs. Flynn made a clucking