The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-06-03
This Man Joe Murray BY wInsmc

Joe,s sister, where they both had fine jobs. pleasant and steady and good pay, for girls. Lace is good stuff to work on: pretty and. brit tie and clean. For no visible req son she took to running up to the Murray home at odd times and without any special urging or Irene's part, coming in with a queer mixture of brash intrusion and apology. With so many chil- dren growing up the elder Mur- rays about twice year regularly had to put their food down and limit the trooping of young friends, who without any curb would be landing in on the family before breakfast and swamp ing the crowded flat till midnight.
 Terry,s visits, though they came at unexpected hours and often lasted uncomfortably long, were hard to feel annoyed over for very long. There was something very disarming about her, even while you wondered what on earth to do with her. She was a short little thing and kind of round, with no figure to speak of in spite of the fact that she wasn't fat. She was dark brown of hair and type, not pretty exact ly but agreeable looking, though her brown eyes were very large and when she was at her ease and feeling free and vivacious they lighted up and became really beautifuyl and said for her great many things that words could not say. She would come in kind Of tongue-tied and timid - yet she'd come inland she'd hang around a while, and presently settle down out in the kitchen with Mrs. Mur- ray, for instance, and proceed to entertain the puzzled old lady for a couple of hours at time, chor- ting and talking her bobbing head off and enjoying herself like a child let out of the house.
 That was how they finally figured it out: she was a child let out after being pent-up long enough to burst.
 Joe, after being first annoyed, then resigned, then irritated again and curious, questioned his sister. Whats the idea of the visiting firewoman back in the kitchen every time go to shaver"
 Irene was somewhat irritated herself, but helpless. T give up. You can have her. felt sorry for her and brought her home. It's been out of my hands since"
 Don't she go anywhere else? Where's her boy friend?"
 T don't think she has any"
 He looked at her, frowning. "Why not?"
 Family. They're screwy. No boys need apply. The old man runs them out"
 He thought it over, but it was beyond him. Anything wrong with her? She get in any trou- ble?"
 Irene told what she knew. There was no trouble. There had been small opportunity. She was the only child. She'd never had any free rein. Terry's family was one of those mysteries in every neighborhood: you couldn't make up your mind whether they were clean unbalanced or unbelievably mean. There were the grandpar- ents, narrow, unsmiling, religious cranks both of t.lem, with all the grim self-satisfaction of the right eous the world over, and there was the middle-aged son, Terry's dad, pompous dude who had never made an honest living in his life. He gambled, drank, played the races and horSed around in a generally disreputable way, but always with a hollow piffling dignity and a hypocritical and apparently successful hiding of his affairs from his home. At least, he seemed to be getting away with it. No one could figure out how they worked it out: that fine pair of fanatics and that hol- low big hypocrite, and the kid Terry left holding the bag.
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