JIM: And what the devil are we going to have for supper tonight!

LINDA: Oh, yes. That is the most immediate problem. What do we eat and when?

JIM: I know. Mrs. O’ Fallon had chicken for dinner. I’m going to raid the Frigidaire right now. [He gets up and runs a comb through his hair.]

LINDA: And leave me up here by myself? I might drown before you get back. No. I’m going with you.

JIM: I’ll say you aren’t! If Mrs. O’Fallon caught you in her Frigidaire it would be grand larceny.

LINDA [sadly]: I know. She doesn’t approve of me. She thinks I married you for your family fortune. [She gives him a shove toward door.] Go on. Swipe a drumstick for me! [When Jim goes out Linda’s happy manner vanishes. She shrugs her shoulders as though trying to dismiss some oppressive thought. Goes over to the window. Then, disgustedly.] Rain . . . all the time! [She places washbowl under one of the leaking places. Footsteps are heard and rapping at the door.]

MRS. O’FALLON [offstage]: Mrs. Flynn?

[Mrs. O’Fallon enters. She is an Irish landlady in an acid humor.]

LINDA [anxiously]: Oh, Mrs. O’Fallon! How charming of you to come up! Just when I was feeling so lonesome. . . .

MRS. O’FALLON: Hmmm. No doubt. Hmmm. I see yer doin’ yer wash up here.

LINDA [brightly]: Oh, yes. I’m quite domestic these days. . . .

MRS. O’FALLON: Well, it ain’t allowed. It’s against the rules o’ the establishment, Mrs. Flynn. Roomers ain’t allowed to do their wash in the rooms!

LINDA [desperately]: But Mrs. O’Fallon—Jim and I—we have to save every way that we can. . . .

MRS. O’FALLON: Hmmm. No doubt. I should think yer would. Yer five weeks behind on yer rent right now. I’ve turned out many a roomer in the dead o’ winter fer bein’ less than that, Mrs. Flynn! This ain’t no charitable institution. . . .

LINDA: I know, I know! I was just saying to Jim this morning— “Dear Mrs. O’Fallon, she’s been so patient with us. . . .”

MRS. O’FALLON [acidly]: It’s yer husband that I’ve been patient with, Mrs. Flynn. I always have a great deal o’ sympathy fer young men like Jim who don’t know properly how to take care o’ themselves. . . .

LINDA: I know. Jim has told me how lovely you were to him, Mrs. O’Fallon. Just like a mother, he said!

MRS. O’FALLON: Just like a mother, is it? Well, I like that! I’m hardly as old as all that, Mrs. Flynn!

LINDA: Oh, no! How stupid of me! It was an older sister, he said. Just like an older sister!

MRS. O’FALLON: Hmmm! Yer a bit older than Jim is yerself, ain’t you, Mrs. Flynn!

LINDA [confused]: Why, yes, I am a little bit older than Jim is . . . but what are you driving at, Mrs. O’Fallon?

MRS. O’FALLON: I’ll tell yer what I’m driving at! Yer an able-bodied young woman—why don’t yer go back to work?