“You stay supper,” added the other. “Got spaghetti.”
“Gee!” said Hal. “All right, let me stay, and pay for it.”
“Hell, no!” said Jerry. “You no pay!”
“No! No pay!” cried Mrs. Jerry, shaking her pretty head energetically.
“All right,” said Hal, quickly, seeing that he might hurt their feelings. “I'll stay if you're sure you have enough.”
“Sure, plenty!” said Jerry. “Hey, Rosa?”
“Sure, plenty!” said Mrs. Jerry.
“Then I'll stay,” said Hal. “You like spaghetti, Kid?”
“Jesus!” cried Little Jerry.
Hal looked about him at this Dago home. It was a tome in keeping with its pretty occupant. There were lace curtains in the windows, even shinier and whiter than at the Rafferties; there was an incredibly bright-coloured rug on the floor, and bright coloured pictures of Mount Vesuvius and of Garibaldi on the walls. Also there was a cabinet with many interesting treasures to look at—a bit of coral and a conch-shell, a shark's tooth and an Indian arrow-head, and a stuffed linnet with a glass cover over him. A while back Hal would not have thought of such things as especially stimulating to the imagination; but that was before he had begun to spend five-sixths of his waking hours in the bowels of the earth.