for a couple of weeks.
Then he came into the shop with a girl who had a pretty, rather blank
face, and a mouth that could twist with stubborn anger.

"Meet Minnie," Jig said loudly. "She is one reason why I have decided
that I've had enough of this kid stuff. I gave it a whirl--for kicks.
But who, with any sense, wants to go batting off to Mars or the
Asteroids? That's for the birds, the crackpots. Wife, house, kids--right
in your own home town--that's the only sense there is. Minnie showed me
that, and we're gonna get married!"

The Bunch looked at Jig Hollins. He was swaggering. He was making sour
fun of them, but in his eyes there were other signs, too. A pleading:
Agree with me--back me up--quit! Don't see through me--it's not so,
anyhow! Don't say I'm hiding behind a skirt... Above all, don't call me
yellow! I'm _not_ yellow, I tell you! I'm tough Jig Hollins! You're the
dopes!...

Frank Nelsen spoke for the others. "We understand, Jig. We'll be getting
you a little wedding present. Later on, maybe we'll be able to send you
something really good. Best of luck..."

They let Jig Hollins and his Minnie go. They felt their contempt and
pity, and their lifting, wild pride. Maybe Jig Hollins, wise guy and big
mouth, boosted their own selves quite a bit, by contrast.

"Poor sap," Joe Kuzak breathed. "Who's he kidding--us or himself, or
neither...?"

Soon Eileen began to show symptoms: Sighs. A restlessness. Sudden angry
pouts that would change as quickly to the secret smiles of reverie,
while she hummed a soft tune to herself, and rose on her toes, dancing a
few steps. Speculative looks at Nelsen, or the other guys around her.
Maybe she envied men. Her eyes would narrow thoughtfully for a second.
Then she might look scared and very young, as if her thoughts frightened
her. But the expression of determined planning would return.

After about ten days of this, Gimp asked, "What's with you, Eileen? You
don't usually say much, but now there must be something else."

She tossed down a fistful of waste with which she had been wiping her
hands--she had been cementing segments of the last of the ten bubbs they
would make--more than they needed, now, but spares might be useful.

"Okay, all," she said briskly. "You should hear this, without any
further delay. I'm clearing out, too. Reasons? Well--at least since Tif
flunked his emotional I've been getting the idea that possibly I've been
playing on a third-rate team. No of