New Britain herald., 1928-10-30

wanted to have-''her own kind cf people," aA Grandmoter Pentland had put it. She would have her own money and clothes Of her own instead of Marianna's cast-offs. She would have . good time. too. She was sure of it.
 After all. she was almost nineteen. Thousands of glrls of her own asc, and of every class. were doing this very thing. All over the Torld they were marching out of their homes and into. offices and departmen. stores. into orange groves and can- ming factories. into interior decorat- ing shops and newspaper plants. into motion picture studios and hos pital laboratories. It was q new crusade. A girls crusade in these days when youth is having its day.
 Its not as If l were doing som.- thing that nobody else is doing" Emmy told herself with defiance. Away down deep in her mind she was already marshalling her argu- ments, getting ready for the strug- gle with her mother when the time should come for her to pack up ana walk out of the house.
 'I'm not going to sing in this choir much longer, either." she went on thinking with another small flash of rebellion. After l start working I'll want my Sundays 10 myself for resting or fixing up my clothes. I won't have time to spend my whole day in church the way mother wants me to-"
 After church she walked part or the way down town. City-born us she was. the sights and sounds of town always meant to her what green fields and the music of brooks and birds never could mean to her. She thrilled to the tread Of feet along pavements. to the hum of motor cars that was like the hum Of giant bees, swarming. She vibrat- ed to the melody of the streets.
 The sight of Euclid avenue office buildings. shining from far off.
  at work behind one of those distant windows fwinkling in the sunshine.
 And when she got back to Flower street the new impulse of adventure and freedom woke in her once more. ''I will get out" she cried iu her heart as Fsop's starling did Tn promising herself that it would get its head out of the neck of the pitcher.
 Dinner was ready when she walked into the house. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding. mashed pota- tees. mushrooms fruit salad, and pumpkin pie with coffee.
 Mir. Milburn loved 10 cat. and he was always at home for Sunday din- ner. And so there was always an enormous meal then. even if there had been nothing but potato soup and soda biscuits the night before. It was always feast or famine in the little yellow house.
 At the head of the table, with a morning sleep and hot bath be- hind him. he actually resemhled the model kind of father that Mrs. Mill burn tried to persuade her children that he was. He carved the roast with noble flourish. he cracked jokes he gave advice to his off, spring, and he made them grandiio- quent promises. When the meal was over he leaned back in his carving chair and clipped the end from fine large cigar. His eyes went around the tiny shabby room and they were filled with scorn for it.
 Well. by this time next year we'll all be in a home of our own." he said positively: land it won't he In Bill Parks slum either!" He did not like Uncle Bill Parks any better than Uncle Bill Parks liked him. And that was not at all.
 This place." put in young Dan. ''sure is one pumping station, what I mean" He always agreed with his father. They were curiously alike. the father and the son. Each of them had a life of his own out side the house. returning to it only for meals and bed and clean clothes.
 "WeIl be out of 1t soon." his fa- thcr said again. He had been saying it for years and years. Perhaps he believed it himself.
 Mrs Milburn stood up and began to clear off the table. Hurry up. Emmy" she said: If we don't get these dishes washed up pretty soon we'll he late for vespers It's three o'clock n0w."
 As Emmy passed her fathers chair with the pie dish in her hands,