"I don't care," whimpered Minnie Wenzel suddenly, sinking in
a limp heap on the floor. "I had to do it. I'm marrying a swell
fellow and a girl's got to have some clothes that don't look like
a Bird Center dressmaker's work. He's got three sisters. I saw
their pictures and they're coming to the wedding. They're the kind
that wear low-necked dresses in the evening, and have their hair
and nails done downtown. I haven't got a thing but my looks.
Could I go to New York dressed like a rube? On the square, Jo, I
worked here six years and never took a sou. But things got away
from me. The tailor wouldn't finish my suit unless I paid him fifty
dollars down. I only took fifty at first, intending to pay it
back. Honest to goodness, Jo, I did."

"Cut it out," said Jo Haley, "and get up. I was going to give
you a check for your wedding, though I hadn't counted on no three
hundred. We'll call it square. And I hope you'll be happy, but I
don't gamble on it. You'll be goin' through your man's pants
pockets before you're married a year. You can take your hat and
fade. I'd like to know how I'm ever going to square this thing
with Ted and Birdie."

"An' me standin' here gassin' while them fool girls in the
dinin'-room can't set a table decent, and dinner in less than ten
minutes," cried Birdie, rushing off. Ted mumbled something
unintelligible and was after her.

"Birdie! I want to talk to you."

"Say it quick then," said Birdie, over her shoulder. "The
doors open in three minnits."