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 At the scorn in Minnie's voice when she spoke Pete's name the same look came into Mrs. Flynn's eyes as had flamed into Elsie Bickers's.

Minnie saw the look. "Oh, Lord, now I've put my foot in it," she thought as she walked uneasily over to her mother. "Don't carry on, ma, I'm saying nothin' much against your little pet except that he's no matinee idol. Honest I ain't."

Her mother caught her by the arm.

"The first thing we know," she whispered in a pitiful whimper, "Pete's goin' to get sick of hearin' what a loafer he is from you and your father and he's goin' to clear out again. Clear out again! Do you get me? And if he does, Minnie, as God is my judge, I won't be able to stand it." Her voice, ascending into a trembling falsetto, broke off suddenly, and the tears rushed to her eyes.

Though Minnie was used to these outbursts, she always felt sorry for her mother. "Please, ma, don't get so excited over it. I promised you the last time that Pete got sore and threatened us, I'd never say anything about it again, and I've kept my word, ain't I? Even when he took that dollar bill out o' my purse, did I say anything to him about it outside of askin' him what he done with it? Go on, ma, tell me—did I nag him about it? Did I?"

"Pete never took that bill out o' your purse, Minnie Flynn, and you know better. You're careless, and like enough you lost it. Or maybe you never had it in the first place, you just thought you did."

"Oh, ma, what's the use of goin' into that again? I had the bill, and you know it, too. You seen me put it into my purse and five minutes later with nobody in the house but Pete it was gone."

Mrs. Flynn's hand was trembling as she seized hold of Minnie's arm.