HOUSE AND GARDEN 
September, 
i9 J 3 
and the last picture had been hung, the last rearrangement of 
furniture accomplished, the last bit of cleaning-up work put be¬ 
hind, Mrs. Spence suddenly awoke to the fact that she was lor.ely. 
Born and reared in the city, she had taken up life in Willisport 
with many misgivings, in spite of her realization that they were 
not getting from life in the city all that it really had to other for 
the price they paid. Her principal pleasures had always been 
theatres, restaurant life, and so¬ 
cial gatherings, and she feared 
that the suburban move would 
hardly other compensations. The 
latest transplanting, miles from 
any metropolitan gayeties, had 
seemed even more terrible, and it 
was with no feeling of surprise 
that she realized that to her, at 
least, the experiment was much 
of a failure. To be sure, there 
was the car, but she was afraid 
to run it herself, a short and de¬ 
corous drive over quiet roads in 
the dark of the evening seemed 
very little like the motor trips she 
had dreamed about when her hus¬ 
band had suddenly announced he 
was going to purchase a motor, 
and altogether she found that, 
motor or no motor, Castleton life 
left much to be desired! 
Spence knew nothing of it. To him, getting in the car in the 
early morning, spinning - to the station in a few minutes, without 
the rush and hurry of the hasty walk on a half-eaten breakfast 
to discourage digestion, which had been his last year’s experi¬ 
ence, the new home was entirely satisfactory. In the evenings 
he found some desultory digging in the garden, play with his 
children, and an 
early bed suffi¬ 
cient rest and 
change from the 
busy day in the 
city. 
“I don't miss 
the theatres nor 
the restaurants a 
bit, do you?” he 
asked his wife, a 
question more a 
statement than an 
interrogation. 
Nor did he 
note that her 
“No-o-o— not 
much” was af- 
f i r m a t i v e in 
meaning even 
though 
in language. 
But Mrs. Spence 
was lonely. Their 
neighbors were 
not close, and im¬ 
mediate factors as 
had always be¬ 
fore been the 
case. In Willisport she could run across two lawns and visit, or 
be visited by, half a dozen women during the day without any 
special effort. Here, the nearest house was three hundred yards 
The former owner had found a detachable tonneau of con¬ 
siderable value in doing all sorts of farm labor 
For him in all sorts of weather there was the exhilaration of getting in the car in the morning and 
spinning to the station without the hurry of a hasty walk on a half-eaten breakfast 
away, and there lacked the same opportunities to become ac¬ 
quainted. Their town friends seemed to forget their existence,, 
now they had moved ‘‘so far away,” as they put it, and Castleton 
lacked what Willisport had, a small “down town” section where 
the minor distractions of the shops and a neighborhood club, of¬ 
fered incentive for mild excitement. 
But Mrs. Spence was not one to give up in despair because 
conditions did not suit her. She 
could see for herself that both boy 
and girl were infinitely better off 
here than they had ever been be¬ 
fore. Larry was making the 
chickens his especial care, and 
had become an earnest student of 
"chickenology” as his father put 
it — so much so that, in self de¬ 
fense, several books on chicken 
farming had been bought to an¬ 
swer his many questions. To his 
great surprise, the lad devoured 
the books, acted on their advice, 
and, in spite of some early fail¬ 
ures and a few feathered trage¬ 
dies, succeeded in keeping his 
flock in good health. 
At his mother’s suggestion, he 
kept a small set of books showing 
what he expended, and the family 
bought eggs from him at the market price. When he laid a 
twenty-dollar bill in his fathers hands at the end of the first six 
months and said, "Dad, that’s my profit—invest it for me, will 
you?” Mr. Spence was so pleased that he immediately presented 
his son with a long and ardently desired incubator, and there was 
jubilation in one small breast. 
As for Dorothy, she became a grub, and wrought mightily in 
flower and vege¬ 
table garden, ex- 
pending her 
small strength so 
lavishly that her 
father was going 
to interfere and 
limit her activi¬ 
ties to certain 
hours a day. But 
Dorothy, up in 
arms at once, 
telephoned D r . 
Fiske, the family 
physician, on her 
own responsibil¬ 
ity, asked him out 
to dinner, and 
presented him to 
her surprised 
father one eve¬ 
ning that same 
'week, with the 
announcement: 
“Here is some 
one who wants to 
speak to you, 
father—he’s go¬ 
ing to defend 
your daughter from your statute of limitations.” 
Dr. Fiske had laughed at the result of his invitation and the 
reason for it, enjoyed a good dinner, and examined with in- 
