EILEEN. Three pounds.
MRS. ABNER. Ain't that awful! (Hastening to make up for this thoughtless remark.) All the same, what's three pounds! You can git them back in a week after you're resting more. You been runnin' a temp, too, ain't you? (Eileen nods.) Don't worry about it, dearie. It'll go down. Worryin's the worst. Me, I don't never worry none. (She chuckled with satisfaction—then soberly.) I just been talkin' with Bailey. She's got to go to bed, too, I guess. She lost two pounds. She ain't runnin' no temp though.
STANTON. Barnes! (Another man comes to the scales.)
MRS. ABNER (in a mysterious whisper). Look at Mr. Murray, dearie. Ain't he nervous to-day? I don't know as I blame him, either. I heard the doctor said he'd let him go home if he gained to-day. Is it true, d'you know?
EILEEN (dully). I don't know.
MRS. ABNER. Gosh, I wish it was me! My old man's missin' me like the dickens, he writes. (She starts to go.) You'll be over to the cottage in a while, won't you? Me 'n' you'll have a game of casino, eh?
EILEEN (happy at this deliverance). Yes, I'll be glad to.
STANTON. Cordero!
(Mrs. Abner goes out. Eileen again starts towards Murray, but this time Flynn, a young fellow with a brick-coloured, homely, good-natured face, and a shaven-necked haircut, slouches back to Murray. Eileen is brought to a halt in front of the table where she stands, her face working with nervous strain, clasping and unclasping her trembling hands.)
FLYNN (curiously). Say, Steve, what's this bull about the Doc lettin' yuh beat it if yuh gain to-day? Is it straight goods?