Connecticut western news., 1909-06-17
AN ABLE ASSISTANT.
By ADELAIDE RUTH HILL.


 try place. a diagram in one hand, a artists sketching materials was com ing down the road. He stopped and leaned against the stone wall.
 ''Is this the Harrington placer" he asked the girl.
 Ut is''
 The old maids who owned it. I hear, are dead, and it tRs passed into the hands of a new owner They say he's a globe tFotter and there's no more chance of the place being kept up than before"
 "On the contrary. I am employed to lay out the grounds in an entirely new scheme"
 Your"
 You seem surprised to see a girl do- ing such work. I have just been grad uated in the department of gardening at - college"
 "H'm! Where are your assistants? You can't do the job alone"
 Cant get any"
 How would I do?" he asked after a pause.
 You seem to be an artist, not tiller of the soil"
 Artists can't live on their artistic productions; they must stop once in awhile to earn some money by work"
 You couldn't earn much here-only S2 day and found"
 II could run ahead SIP week. I'll go to work right off if you like"
 The man was engaged, the head gardener warning him that if she caught him dreaming over the sur rounding scenery, which was very fine, she would dock" his wages. He must also agree to give her a weeks notice before quitting. All this being ar ranged, she set him to work digging up the sod for new infringement of the walks. It was hard work, and he didn't get on very well. At evening she told him he'd better give 1t up.
 II tell you what I'll do,' he said. You pay me what you are allowed for assistants. With that I'll agree to employ two assistants and boss them. Thatll give you all your time for plan ming"
 He succeeded in talking her into the scheme, though she couldn't see where he would get help or make anything for himself. He went to the village that evening and the next morning had two lusty fellows at work. He sat In the grounds sketching, giving his men occasional instructions.
 '1 declare" said the head gardener, If that isn't just like an artist. No body can ever tell how they live. l it's no concern of mine. He's getting the work done"
 Finding too much time fore her plan ming, she strolled out and took look at the picture he was making. The outline of a landscape was sketched on the canvas.
 "T would like to know" she said, "how you expect to gain any money by paying your wages to others"
 II thought that was the only way to make money-getting other people to do the hard work and doing the skilled part yourself"
 But you're not even doing the skill ed part"
 You're doing that"
 While you are''-
 Wasting my time. I admit it. This picture will never be good for any thing Let's go in and try the piano."
 He seemed to have his own way with her She followed him into the house. and, sitting before the piano. he struck several chords.
 "This won't do,'' he said snappishly. 'The thing can't have been tuned in years. These people can't expect you to get on with q tin pan. What's the agents name?
 Before she could stop him he had rung up the agent on the telephone, and she was horrified to hear him say:
 Miss Kissock, the head gardener, wants to know what you mean by leaving the piano in such q condition? She says if you don't have q man here to tune 1t right off she'll throw up her job"
 ! He flung down the receiver and re- ) joined her.
 Upon my wordr' she exclaimed. "Who authorized you to say that?'
 "If he doesn't have a tuner here by tomorrow morning you needn't pay me any wages for myself or the two as sistants You women are not fitted to get on as men are. You haven't } got any sand" "Where men have as much of it as you have there's none left for us women"
 She consented to let the matter rest, and sure enough the next morning the piano was tuned. Then the first assist ant gardener insisted on the head gar dener spending the morning with him ' in the music room. l Finally the grounds were laid out l on the new plan. The men the assist ant had hired kept at work and seemed satisfied with their pay" How their l boss managed the finances to make anything was mystery. When the work was ready to turn , over to the agent the artist took his , traps and moved on. It seemed to tho