HOUSE AND GARDEN 
October, 1913 
■ - 
the work of a horse. He even discovered a way to have it help 
him in gathering the fruit in his orchard. When the “crops” 
were ready for harvest, Dorry, who had become very skilful as a 
driver, piloted it for miles in many directions, delivering fresh 
vegetables to those who, either from lack of land or inclinations, 
did not do much gardening. Potatoes, melons, carrots, peas, 
beans, corn, radishes, lettuce, some rather scraggy celery, apples, 
berries, eggs, poultry—the garden was a great success. 
“I never could dispose of all this surplus if it wasn’t for the 
car,” Dorothy said gaily one day. 
“How much money have we taken 
in, Mother?” 
It was a happy day for Dorothy 
when the income equaled the ex¬ 
penditures. 
"For we've had all we could eat 
ourselves, as profit,” observed the 
young farmer girl, happily, never 
thinking of the money profit the 
season was to show. 
Of course, the garden was not 
as productive as it would have 
been in more skilful hands. Dor¬ 
othy made fewer mistakes than 
her father, because she gave more 
time to it. But she made plenty, 
and cut her total yield down with¬ 
out knowing it by crowding some 
vegetables, by lack of proper fer¬ 
tilizing, and by too great atten¬ 
tion, in some cases. Even so, the yield was astonishing to them 
all, city-bred, who had little idea of the amount of garden truck 
which three acres, even unskilfully handled, can produce. 
Lest some one criticize this veracious chronicle because it 
marches triumphantly onward towards a state of perfection of 
living and an absolute absence of all troubles of existence, with 
the automobile in the guise of the genii of the lamp, let it be said 
at once that Spence had troubles of various and mostly new kinds 
in his country living experiment. The automobile broke down — 
he had either to ’phone to the garage two miles away to send a 
man to fix it, or fix it himself. By dint of a little study, however, 
he managed to get a sufficient acquaintance with the inner works 
of his car to understand where to look for trouble—Jack, the 
hired man. and a few tools, did the rest quite satisfactorilv. 
“I thought you said 
the modern auto was 
fool proof,” growled 
Spence to Swift one 
day, meeting him at 
lunch. “M y con¬ 
founded beast of a 
car has the colic or 
housemaid's knee or 
something, and 
darned if I can fix 
it!” 
“How much care 
have you given it 
since you have had 
it?” asked the young 
real estate salesman, 
good naturedly. 
“Why — er — none at 
all — the man washes 
it, I believe.” 
“Pardon me, Mr. 
Spence, if I seem 
By dint of a little study Mr. Spence got sufficient acquaintance 
with the inner works to understand where to look for trouble 
After one experience Spence learned that regular attention to the motor’s engine did not 
take much time but saved wear and tear immeasurably 
brutal. I believe I did say fool proof. So is a horse fool proof. 
But would you expect a horse to work and last and not get sick 
if you never blanketed him in cold weather, looked after his food, 
shod him, or made him go days without water ? An auto needs a 
reasonable amount of care — even if it is care given by inexpert 
hands.” 
And Mr. Spence smiled often when later and riper experience 
of many miles had taught him that grease in cups, cups screwed 
down, plentv of oil, a weekly inspection and emetic of kerosene 
constituted the major part of the 
“inexpert attention” he was re¬ 
quired to give. 
Nor did Mrs. Spence entirely 
escape merely because she lived in 
a comfortable house far from the 
city’s maddening rush. There was 
the time she gave a rather preten¬ 
tious party — and the acetylene 
lights went out in the middle of 
it! There was the tragedy of the 
apples, which, harvested when 
beautifully ripe, were too tightly 
packed by her willing but unknow¬ 
ing hands, and spotted dreadfully. 
There was a cesspool which over¬ 
flowed suddenly and made trouble 
and which resulted in a hurried 
call over the ’phone for Mr. 
Spence and his breathless arrival 
shortly thereafter and his disgust 
when he found that he had been called for a job which belonged 
to Jack. 
“But I didn’t know, John dear — you know, I never knew there 
zvas such a thing about the place — and — and - ” 
“Well, dear, I knew it and forgot it ! No harm done, I guess,” 
said Spence, and that ended the matter. 
But the memory remained. 
Larry had several experiences with his chickens which were un¬ 
pleasant—the pip ran its course, and a neighbor’s cat accounted 
for a young brood. But the troubles, such as they were, were no 
worse, only different, than those which had beset them first as 
flat and later as suburban dwellers. 
“In an apartment it’s the janitor, pipes too cold or too hot, the 
elevator breaks down or the telephone won’t go. In a suburb you 
are late for trains, the 
’ cook won’t get up in 
time for you to get 
the seven forty-two, 
and the neighbors 
frown on your cutting 
the grass and think 
you belong to the out¬ 
er pale if you don’t 
dress in a dinner jack¬ 
et after six o’clock. 
Here we have an auto 
which balks, a cess¬ 
pool which overflows, 
and chickens which 
unaccount ably get 
very dead over night. 
At least those trou¬ 
bles we have are in 
our own hands to 
remedy. I’ve learned 
(Continued on page 
244) 
