New Britain herald., 1928-11-22
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Over the poverty and discontent in the little yellow house broods a mothers love. which transmutes the dingy home to . palace of love and beauty. Emmy. the only daughter. is disappointed with her surround inEs, envious of her wealthy rela- tives. eager to try her wings. She goes to work at her first job. And there a new man, Wells Harbison. enters her life. very different from quiet, hard-working Robb, who loves her. but who represents to her only . moneyiess boring future. She decides to get away from dingy Flower street and live her own life in a little apartment of her own. where she can entertain as she likes. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER XXXI
 Mrs. Milburn came up the stairs. Her eyes were red and she was pat ting them with her handkerchief.
 She looked down at the straw suitcase. Then she knelt down and began to take out some of the neatly folded stockings that Emmy had just put into it.
 My dear child. you don't need eight pairs of stockings" she said practically. And four princess slips-Why. Emmy. you're going to be zone only two nights. A change of underthings and a nightie are all you need. Get that little brown bag from my clothes closet. I'll pack 1t for you"
 Emmy scrambled to her feet and drew . deep breath. With her hands behind her back. and a thick lock of golden hair fallen over one eye. she faced her mother. looking very young and very resolute and very, very frightened. now that her mo- ment was upon her.
 "I'm not coming back" she said breathlesslI
 What are you talking about?" asked her mother. getting to her own feet. What nonsense is this, Emmy Milburn?'
 I'm not coming back. I say. I've taken . flat of my own," Emmy said, still breathlessly. She could feel her heart plunge in her breast. This was worse than she had expected 1t would be.
 "A flat-?"
 ''Of my own!" Emmy finished the sentence for her mother. I've rent ed 1t and I'm going to move in on Monday morning when l leave Grandmother house. I'm going to lead my own life, and nobody's go- ing to stop me! You just jangle me all up by talking to me. My minds made up and that's all there is to it."
 Mrs. Milburn did not answer her. She just stood in the middle of the little white room with her eyes growing wider and wider in her face that was like . fading pink rose. Her hands. discolored by the grime of months and months of furnace tending, twisted in the folds of her starched white apron.
 In the stiffness the sound of the alarm clock ticking away the min utes was like hammer strokes
 If she'd only say something" thought Emmy. Tor cry" She hadn't expected her mother to be pathetic like this. She had expected her to storm and arsue-to lay down the law.
 I've got to get away. Mother. Can't you seer 'she appealed to her. Y can't ask anybody here. Not even the people from the office. I can't have any friends and I want friends, I want friends. I want some fun. I've never had any-you know 1t, Mother! Why. just look at this place!"
 With one hand she swept aside the sash curtains that hung like frilled white petticoats in the win dow.
 Outside Flower street was gray and black in the rain-the colors of poverty and desolation and sad ness. The McMylers. small and dirty and neglected, danced about in their outlandish winter garments. Mrs. Brainard. looking like some character cut of a London slum, came slip-slopping down the street with a half -bushel basket of pota- toes in her hand. The yellow feet of a chicken protruded from a bag un- der her arm.
 Its selfish of you to try to keep ne here!" Emmy cried. Selfish selfish! You have to stay. You've done for yourself. but I haven't. And I won't stay! I tell you l won't" She began to cry wildly and to throw the eight pairs of stoc-.ings back into the straw case.
 Selfish? Mrs. Milburn's voice came at last. Selfish. Emmy? Emmy. I'd lay my life down for you children"
 T don't want you to lay your life down for me!' Emmy was hys- terical now. T just want you to let me live mine in my own way my own way.' She stood at her dresser and swept all her little toilet articles into towel. She stuffed the towel into the case
 But you're only nineteen years old. You can't live by yourself. a little bit of girl" All the pathos