New Britain herald., 1928-11-26

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self out of them. for all OF me. Pm
not his banker" With her flounces
rustling like leaves in autumn. she
turned on her common-sense heel
and went downstairs to finish her
bridge game.
Il wish you hadn't asked her for
any money, Mother. ! have the five
dollars for my board. YOU know"
Emmy said. and Mrs. Milburn took
it without a word and hurried down.
stairs to the long tailor
from Cedar avenue.
Mr.. Miiburn did not come home
that night.
He did not come home until ten
o'clock the next morning. when the
family were at breakfast in the dim
ing room. with its silver white table
cloth. its bubbling percolator, its
piled up fruits. and its air Of gloom.
He made no attempt to explain or
Justify his absence. He simply
breexed in. carrying a string of fish
which he handed solemnly and 81
lently to Finch. the new and unsmil-
ing butler. The family could think
what it liked about him-that was
his attitude. In his own mind he
doubtless thought that they would
picture him as having spent the
night alone on Lake Erie catching
fish.
Mrs. Milburn's unquenchable
gaiety was quenched for once. She
broke up her toast. carefully but
tered each piece. then carefully laid
each one down again. Her eyes
lifted. dropped. then lifted once
more and met Emmy's in a look of
utter wretchedness.
Grandmother. remote as a dow
ager Empress. drank her tea in aw-
full silence.
Presently Mr. Milburn laughed 1t
was strained, shaky sound.
"Well Rosy" he said to his wife.
II lost my job yesterday. ! lost my
job. Had it twenty-five years, AMI
row its gone
He looked down at his empty
plate and spread out his hands to
show how empty they were. :. :.
Everything gone.
1t was Grandmother Pentland who
answered him in a voice that sound
ed like the tinkle Of ice in a frosted
pitcher. And you've been out cele-
brating your misfortune. haven't
you?' she asked him. And then:
What are you planning to do. now
that you haven't any salary?"
Mrs. Milburn's hand We're clenoh-
ed at the edge of the table.
"Please don't talk to him now,
Mother" she begged. in a whisper
Hes not-quite himself" It VIA.
the nearest she had ever come to
admitting the truth about her hus-
band.
If Grandmother Portland heard
her she gave no sign of it.
II should think you'd come to
your senses pretty soon, Charlie
Milburn." she raped out at him.
Here you are, facing old age with
out job! Without anything, far
as can see. but lot Of debts. Who
do you thinks going TO take care Of
you when you haven't any money,
If you think I'm going to. you're
barking up the wrong tree. Be-
cause I'm mott"
Mr.. Milburn turned his hloodshot
eyes to his daughter Emmy.
"Emmy'll take care of her t.addy
in his old age. Won't you. daugh-
ter" he asked. thickly.
"Hah. You won't have any old
age II you keep on doing what you
; are doing" Grandmother Pent,and
told him. darkly.
Then he looked at her.
And what am ] doing. Madame
Pentland?" he asked. He was very
dignified. He laid down his fork and
waited for her answer with a great
show of patience and polteness.
1t came.
She told him what nobody before
had told him about himself. She told
! him what he was sure nobody ever
(; had known about him.
You're drinking yourself into the
grave. That's what you're doing."
she said. delib erately. Her old voice
quavered, but it carried force with
1t all the same.
Mr.. Milburn pushed back his high
carved chair. He looked at his chill
dren and his wife. "You heard what
she said 10 me. Rosy" he asked
rathetically. You heard 1t. chill
dren?"
Yes. and I've something to SAY
10 you." Grandmother Pentlane