Roland Ashford Phillips

“ How foolish it was of Hezekiah to think she could stay on the old farm and fight down the ambition which leaped like fire in her veins. She was made for a greater world than that; she was born to dwell in the city of big things. So she had put him out of her mind. It is easy at seventeen, when art beckons.
But a mere voice proved to be unreliable as a provider of food, shelter, and clothes. A hall bedroom soon became her palace, and the Supreme Lunch her banquet hall. Determination, once so firmly rooted, shriveled up like a thirsty flower. ”

“ Cheridah faltered. "I didn't know. I thought I was being held down on a farm, I thought all the real folks lived in the city, and—and——" She broke down and sobbed. "Oh, to see the waving fields once more, Bess, and to hear the old dinner bell, and to eat flapjacks again! That's life, isn't it?"
Bessie nodded. "All but the flapjacks," she said. "They are too much like the wheats they're always browning at the Supreme Lunch."
"And to pick the wild flowers," Cheridah went on, her voice low. "To help with the haying and hunt for nests in the stubble! ”

“ A voice lifted commandingly, shattering her visions as a rifle ball might shatter a pane of glass. "Pay attention! Can't you see there's customers waiting?"
It was Mr. Howland, the refined floorwalker, who had interrupted. With tremulous fingers Cheridah tucked the valentine beneath the long tray, and bent her attentions upon serving the customers which the big sign—"TO-DAY AT 49 c."—lured to the counter. ”