"Yep--it's a chance and I got to jump at it."

"Why did it fall through before?"

He shoveled in a cracker spread with sardines before he answered.

"Oh, same old story--thought it didn't show up as big as they'd expected.
You can't count on it, no more'n you can on the weather."

She smothered a sigh. The "prospect" and the "ledge" had been part of
their life, lifting them to high hopes, dropping them to continual
disappointment. She would have counseled him to give it all up, but that
he now and then had had luck, especially in the last five years. She went
back to herself.

"'The Zingara' has been a great thing for me. Everybody says so. If the
next piece goes as big I'm going to strike for a raise. Wait till I show
you," she jumped up, rubbing her oily fingers on the towel, "and you'll
see why little Panchita's had to get an extra-sized hat."

She took from a side table a book--the actress's scrap album--and came
back flirting its pages. At one she pressed it open and held it toward
him, triumphantly pointing to a clipping. "There, from the _Sacramento
Courier_."

He gave a glance at the clipping and said:

"Oh, yes, _that_. Grand, ain't it?"

She was surprised.