things and she won't tell. Paint on her face, too. It's bringin' shame on us, I tell her." Mrs. Stribble sighs heavy. "And we was tryin' to bring her up decent," says she. "I81 got her a job, waitin' in a lunch room up on' the Circle. But she was too good for that. Oh, my, yes! Chucked it after the first week. And then she began bloomin' out in fine feathers. Won't say where she gets 'em, either. And her always throwin' up to her father about not workin', when he's got the rheumatism so bad he can hardly walk at times! Gettin' to be too much of a lady to live in a basement, she is. Humph!" 81 It looked like Vee had started something, for the Stribbles were knockin' Mame something fierce, when all of a sudden they quits and we hears the street door open. A minute later and in walks a tall, willowy young party wearin' a near-leopard throw-scarf, one of these snappy French tams, and a neat black suit that fits her like it had been run on hot. If it hadn't been for the odd shade of hair and the eyes I wouldn't have remembered her at all for the stringy, sloppy dressed flapper I used to see going in and out with the growler or helping with the sweepin'. Mame Stribble had bloomed out, for a fact. Also she'd learned how to use a lip-stick and an eyebrow pencil. I couldn't say whether she'd touched up her complexion or not. If she had it was an artistic job—just a faint rose-leaf tint under the eyes. And I had to admit that the whole effect was some stunnin'. Course, she's more or less surprised to see all the comp'ny, but Vee soon82 explains how we've come to hear about Brother Jim and she shakes hands real friendly. 82 "I suppose you are working somewhere?" suggests Vee. Mame nods. "Where?" asks Vee, going to the point, as usual. Miss Stribble glances accusin' at paw and maw. "Oh, they've been roastin' me, have they?" she demands. "Well, I can't help it. What they want to know is how much I'm gettin' so I'll have to give up more. But it don't work. See! I pay my board—good board, at that—and I'm not goin' to have paw snoopin' around my place tryin' to queer me. Let him get out and rustle for himself." With that Mame sheds the throw-scarf and tosses her velvet tam on the table. "I'm so sorry," says Vee. "I didn't mean to interfere at all. And I've no doubt you have a perfectly good situation."
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