Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1908-01-28
The r. r.
Mushroom
Farm By }. LvoLuM
I'll uu1e LEE.
Copyright, 1907. by P. G. Eastmen

! Farm. BY ;. t tgolo" !
g Copyright, 1907. by P. c. Eastment. S
The girls were holding an indignation
meeting. Clara Carruthers was curled
up on the window ledge, Myrtle Reed
had stretched herself comfortably on
the lounge, Mary Sands was perched
on the side Of table swinging her
feet, while two or three other girls
were comfortably seated in armchairs.
Myrtle Reed was reading the Goshen
Leader the principal local paper.
"Glrls, 1t ought to be stopped. Here
she Is advertising for man to fix the
roof of that old stable. Yesterday she
wanted man to fix the furnace, and
the day before 1t was boy she want
ed to water the mushroom beds. Her
family are poor enough without en-
couraging Florence Weiss In any more
Of her foolish fads. Why doesn't she
marry, us the rest Of us have done"
That's what I asked Jack the other
night" chimed in Mary Sands. But
she says she hates the men and wants
to raise mushrooms and make for
tune Of her own. Her grandmother
left her $500, you know, and that is
what she invested in the mushroom
fad"
"Let's go down in a body and apply
for the job" suggested Clara. 1T is
a glorious day, and the walk will do US
good"
In the meantime Florence Weiss was
unlocking the door Of the old stable.
Dressed in a short walking skirt and
scarlet sweater, with an old tam-o'-
shanter on her golden hair, she made a
picture most unfarmer-like. Her blue
eyes sparkled with anticipation as she
entered the cellar Of the stable to view
her precious mushrooms. Florence had
Ideas and ideals, and she meant to live
up to both. If the family expected her
to marry just to replete their purse
they would be sadly disappointed. Wo-
men were born fer nobler things, she
argued, and she would go forth and
make money with her own hands and
brains and not tie herself to any man.
She knelt down by the side Of one
Of the beds and with spoon cut OF a
tiny mushroom sprung up overnight.
She examined the spawn in another
bed, felt the temperature of a third
and then went to the door to call Mala-
chi. the boy whom she employed to do
chores.
Malachi. Malachip' she called out,
but Malachi did not appear, so she
went out to look for him. Behind the
stable on the side hill she found him
covered with tar and beating fire.
Malachi, what Is oil this?" she de-
manded.
Eyes, ma'am-you see, ma'am-O
Lord. miss, I've set fire to the tar" he
walled You see. miss, was gettin'
ready for the man to fix the roof, an |
opened the barrel of tar, an 1t
wouldn't run. SO I thought, you see
ma'am. thought I'd melt it-yes,
| ma'am."
"Well, Malachi, you're an idiot, that's
what you are. and / never want to see
your face again. You've melted 1t all
right, and Ill have to buy more tar at
So barrel"
Malachi was discharged. and the
man who applied to put on new roof
was installed In his place.
"Clean up the place." said Florence
when asked what he should do until
more tar arrived for the roof.
Florence started for town and so
missed the call that the girls paid.
She was back the next morning, how
ever, to see her new man started on
| his work.
Get some of that fertilizer. Joseph,
and bring 1t to me. This bed Is In very
poor condition and will never yield
anything unless we work on it."
Joseph stared in blank amazement.
Fertilizer, ma'am," he said. as 1t
that pile of rotten stuff that was lynn
out yOnder what you're speakin' of"
Eyes. yes" answered Florence.
Right there at the side door,"
"Well I'm after dumpin' it in the
brook, ma'am," he announced. you
told me to clean up the place, and l
done 1t, ma'am. to the best Of my abil-
ity." And he Strengthened up his some
what bent shoulders as II to emphasize
his brilliant stroke Of work.
It was too much added to the loss Of
the barrel of tar. and Florence sat
down on the damp cellar floor and
cried, but not for long. She soon dried
the tears on her old apron and vented
her bitter anger on the head Of Joseph
He stood for a moment listening. then
turned and went out, muttering:
~ thought it was lady, but |
might Of knowed diggin' In the dirt
never made n lady yet" And Joseph
was a thing Of the past.
Florence sat upon the stone wall to
think 1t over Eight dollars for the tar
Of yesterday, $12 for the fertilizer Of
today. Ideas were not always prac-
teal, and Ideals did not materialize as
they might. Fight as she would against
them, the tears would come again.
The sound Of wheels on the road near
at hand reused Florence. She turned
to see the express wagon from the gen.
eral store about to deliver the barrel
Of tar. She jumped down from the
fence and hurried to the gate which
led to the old stable.
"Why, Mr.. Rivers, what are you do
ing? Driving the express wagon?' she
exclaimed as she recognized In the
driver one Of Goshen's leading young
men.
"Helo. Flo" he cried as he tied the
old horse to the gatepost. ITS me,
all right. Just loafing around for a
few days finishing up business trip.
Dad said you ordered this tar from the
store, and said I'd deliver 1t and kill
| two birds with one throw. | was COM
ing up to see the wonderful mush-
rooms anyway before left. Call your
man to help me unload the barrel, will
youy"
"Oh, Dick-Mr. Rivers. l mean.
haven't any man, nor any boy. nor any
mushrooms. Yes, I've been crying"