A FAIR SPRINKLER, 



By GRACE GOODMAN. 



If it is true as my cynical old 

 bachelor friend Winthrop says, 

 that all women look sallow in the 

 morning, it is equally certain that 

 they are beautiful in the twilight, 

 especially in summer when seen on 

 a lawn in white dresses. And I 

 have come to the conclusion that 

 my young neighbor across the way, 

 who every night about eight makes 

 her appearance on the lawn with a 

 hose is very lovely, though this 

 fact I cannot prove. What I can 

 say is that she is graceful and 

 slender, that she drags that slimy 

 old hose across the grass in a really 

 dignified manner, and that she has 

 a fashion of holding back her skirts 

 with one hand while she wields the 

 hose with the other, which is truly 

 picturesque. 



Now I don't pretend to be any- 

 thing of a student of human nature, 

 but I really think that I can ana- 

 lyze this girl's character from the 

 way she handles a hose. That she 

 handles it at all is a proof of enter- 

 prise and individuality, for here in 

 aristocratic Kenwood we usually 

 hire someone to do our sprinkling 

 for us and it is only because I enjoy 

 the opportunity for a little outing 

 that I am so conscientious about 

 keeping my lady mother's grass 

 well watered this season, and the 

 one I have just hinted at, the fact 

 that I am thus given the chance to 

 study my unknown fair one. And 

 as I was saying I have learned to 

 know that girl from her manner of 

 sprinkling. 



In the first place she lacks appli- 

 cation and method, one can see 

 that from the way she will sud- 

 denly desert the roots of trees into 

 w T hich she has been boring and 

 turn her spray to the topmost 

 branches of another on the other 

 side of the lawn. A man, myself 

 for instance, will methodically go 

 to work at one end of the garden 

 and slowly and systematically cover 

 every inch of space, never going 

 back and never swamping one 

 flower bed and neglecting another. 

 Yet she is conscientious and always 

 comes back to the deserted tree 

 and tries to make up for her fickle- 

 ness. Another is a certain pretty 

 playfulness about her too, for she 

 likes occasionally to point the 

 stream in a direct line over her 

 head and allow the. drops to fall 

 straight upon that mass of chest- 

 nut hair at least I think it is 

 chestnut. And once I fancied I 

 discovered some consciousness of 

 my presence in an apparent effort 

 to imitate my more thorough going 

 masculine method of watering care- 

 fully but one spot at a time. But 

 it is simply impossible for her to 

 keep steadily to one purpose and 

 off she goes to the lilac bush that 

 is already in danger of being up- 

 rooted. 



And how fond she is of flowers. 

 I often see her stoop to pat a lily 

 on its head and sometimes I fancy 

 I can hear her talking to the lark- 

 spurs and phlox which grow by the 

 gate. It has come to be the chief 



