of a sudden.’
‘Don’t you worry, m’am! We’ll cook the Mikado’s goose, all right!’
Miss Tinkham said she was sure they would, and had another beer. Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen would certainly be proud of her when she came home with fifteen dollars. The thought of them sitting at home alone after a supper of mush and milk, on Saturday night of all nights, gave her a guilty twinge. Here she was with these lovely boys, enjoying the crowd and the music, being treated to all the beer she could drink, while her benefactors ‘stood home,’ as they would have put it! Such was not Agnes Tinkham’s way of doing things. She rose to go and do something about it. The lads asked her to stay on, but when she remained firm they let her go with the promise to make them plenty of leis the next week.
‘Make me a pikake lei!’ a red-headed boy shouted as she left.
Miss Tinkham wasn’t at all sure what a peacocky lei was, but she promised anyway.
Outside, she summoned a taxi with a regal gesture.
‘Drive to the All-Night Market,’ she commanded.
When they got there she ordered the driver to come in and carry the things. Like a homing pigeon Miss Tinkham made for the liquor section.
‘I’ll take two cases of High Hat beer, please. One cold for immediate consumption and the other as is.’
The man got them and said it would be three dollars.
‘Is that all?’ inquired Miss Tinkham casually. ‘Then I’ll take a dollar’s worth of that baked ham…and you might just give me that Edam cheese. Although I suppose it’s domestic?’ Might as well let him know she knew what was what.
The taxi driver staggered under the load. Miss Tinkham gave him the address and lay back to enjoy the ride, which wasn’t half long enough to suit her.
When the taxi door slammed, Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen stuck their heads out the door to see what the excitement could be. Their mouths flew open as they saw their friend come up the walk followed by the laden taxi driver.
‘I sold out early, so there was no use staying in town,’ she explained airily.
The driver said it would be six bits and she handed him a dollar and told him to keep the change.
Mrs. Feeley was the first to recover her wits.
‘What’d you do? Stick up the bank?’
‘No, but I think I’ve found a gold mine!’ Miss Tinkham replied, handing Mrs. Rasmussen nine dollars. ‘That is the amount we needed to complete this week’s quota, is it not?’
‘It is…and two dollars over!’ said the treasurer happily.
‘Well, that being the case,’ said Miss Tinkham, ‘would you ladies care to join me in a glass of cold beer?’
Chapter 12
B Y THE last of May Mrs. Feeley had sold most of the worthwhile pieces of junk out of the yard. She was getting jittery because it had just occurred to her that once the best pieces were sold there would be little left that she could turn into actual cash. She realized also that if Mrs. Rasmussen had not turned her entire pension over to the purpose of feeding the lot of them, they could not have managed to get even as far as they had. Not one woman in a million would have done it. But they didn’t come any better than Mrs. Rasmussen; nor Miss Tinkham either, for that matter. Who would ever have thought that she would average ten dollars a week with the flower-selling? It just went to show that you never could tell what a body could do till they tried. Nothing like friends in this world! That was a fine saying Miss Logan had taught them up at Spanish class: ‘Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you what you are.’
Miss Logan had heard from Danny at long intervals, she said. But she also admitted blushingly that the great handful of letters she received was satisfactory evidence that Danny wrote often even though the mail could not be sent regularly. She didn’t know where he was, except that he was far away.
‘I could die happy if I knew Danny an’ her was married,’ Mrs. Feeley mused. ‘When he
‘Don’t you worry, m’am! We’ll cook the Mikado’s goose, all right!’
Miss Tinkham said she was sure they would, and had another beer. Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen would certainly be proud of her when she came home with fifteen dollars. The thought of them sitting at home alone after a supper of mush and milk, on Saturday night of all nights, gave her a guilty twinge. Here she was with these lovely boys, enjoying the crowd and the music, being treated to all the beer she could drink, while her benefactors ‘stood home,’ as they would have put it! Such was not Agnes Tinkham’s way of doing things. She rose to go and do something about it. The lads asked her to stay on, but when she remained firm they let her go with the promise to make them plenty of leis the next week.
‘Make me a pikake lei!’ a red-headed boy shouted as she left.
Miss Tinkham wasn’t at all sure what a peacocky lei was, but she promised anyway.
Outside, she summoned a taxi with a regal gesture.
‘Drive to the All-Night Market,’ she commanded.
When they got there she ordered the driver to come in and carry the things. Like a homing pigeon Miss Tinkham made for the liquor section.
‘I’ll take two cases of High Hat beer, please. One cold for immediate consumption and the other as is.’
The man got them and said it would be three dollars.
‘Is that all?’ inquired Miss Tinkham casually. ‘Then I’ll take a dollar’s worth of that baked ham…and you might just give me that Edam cheese. Although I suppose it’s domestic?’ Might as well let him know she knew what was what.
The taxi driver staggered under the load. Miss Tinkham gave him the address and lay back to enjoy the ride, which wasn’t half long enough to suit her.
When the taxi door slammed, Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen stuck their heads out the door to see what the excitement could be. Their mouths flew open as they saw their friend come up the walk followed by the laden taxi driver.
‘I sold out early, so there was no use staying in town,’ she explained airily.
The driver said it would be six bits and she handed him a dollar and told him to keep the change.
Mrs. Feeley was the first to recover her wits.
‘What’d you do? Stick up the bank?’
‘No, but I think I’ve found a gold mine!’ Miss Tinkham replied, handing Mrs. Rasmussen nine dollars. ‘That is the amount we needed to complete this week’s quota, is it not?’
‘It is…and two dollars over!’ said the treasurer happily.
‘Well, that being the case,’ said Miss Tinkham, ‘would you ladies care to join me in a glass of cold beer?’
Chapter 12
B Y THE last of May Mrs. Feeley had sold most of the worthwhile pieces of junk out of the yard. She was getting jittery because it had just occurred to her that once the best pieces were sold there would be little left that she could turn into actual cash. She realized also that if Mrs. Rasmussen had not turned her entire pension over to the purpose of feeding the lot of them, they could not have managed to get even as far as they had. Not one woman in a million would have done it. But they didn’t come any better than Mrs. Rasmussen; nor Miss Tinkham either, for that matter. Who would ever have thought that she would average ten dollars a week with the flower-selling? It just went to show that you never could tell what a body could do till they tried. Nothing like friends in this world! That was a fine saying Miss Logan had taught them up at Spanish class: ‘Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you what you are.’
Miss Logan had heard from Danny at long intervals, she said. But she also admitted blushingly that the great handful of letters she received was satisfactory evidence that Danny wrote often even though the mail could not be sent regularly. She didn’t know where he was, except that he was far away.
‘I could die happy if I knew Danny an’ her was married,’ Mrs. Feeley mused. ‘When he
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