Evening star., 1922-12-03

Millish, my rough diamond foreman.
who had peeled to his red flannel un-
dershirt and was scrubbing his neck
at the washstand in the far corner:
and then decided to sit down. with
her back toward Millish. Then she
explained that one Of our young men
had called on her, asking for work
orders.
Yes, perfectly regular ;. I.
That's what I send them out for
Isn't that splendid" says she.
There are so many little things about
house that go wrong. and 1 have
such a time getting Mr.. Adshaw to
send up a plumber or a carpenter or
what not. Generally he forgets. He's
such a busy man, you know. And
when he does remember, 1t is very sell
dom that any one comes. Even II
they do. they only half fix things.
"Once l wanted a door cut through
from one chamber into another. It
didn't seem such a big thing. Yet
in order to get it done we had to
estimate. Then, after three or four
weeks, he sent some men, who made
the hole in the wall and went away.
I thought he'd forgotten all about US.
But Mr.. Adshaw finally called him up
again, and at last came two carpen-
ters who put in the door. A month
later a plasterer and assistant arriv-
ed, and, after making q fearful muss,
they fixed up the edges of the door.
But it was six weeks more before we
could induce tho contractor to have
a painter finish the job. Nearly four
months for a little thing like that!'
"Yes, know" says I. Hence the
Handy Andy shop. We don't make
a serial novel out Of short-story job
We finish it right up"
\ 4 X =
ssIIOw clever:" says she. We'll
II I'd thought Of something want
done. but hate to bother Mr.. Adshaw
again. Anyway. he's on a business
trip now out to the coast You sec.
there's q perfectly useless window
alcovo In our dining room, and It
would make q stunning breakfast
room II could have those window
seats and flower shelves taken out
and ono of those cute little refectory
tables built in."
about ten hours work, should
guess" says 1. Shall I send a man
up now
"Oh, I don't know" says Mrs. Ad-
shaw. Il haven't asked Harold about
It,"
IT'S Harold's house. is itr' I sug-
gests.
why, no." says she. Its mine
left to mo by my father, you know.
And when daddy was alive used to
do as I wished. had managed
everything since was eighteen, when
we lost dear mother. II even used
to help daddy in the business. He
said was his right-hand man. China
importing. you know. 1 would ad-
wise him as to what lines to stock
and what to close out Styles change
in dinner sets almost as much as in
clothes. Daddy used to say I had
second sight, and could tell when gold
bands were coming in or figured de-
signs going out better than any of his
buyers.
"Oh, we'll! It has all been 80 Diff
ferent since I married Harold and let
him take poor dear daddy's place. OF
course. he did know all about the
business. He was daddy's head book
keeper. But somehow things haven't
gono SO we'll since. I have tried to
make some suggestions, too; but Har-
old says I'm only a woman and
mustn't bother my head about big
affairs that don't understand. He
he even stopped mo from coming to
the Office. haven't been there for
years And at home it's much the
same. He handles all the household
accounts, hires and pays the servants
and makes me show him my dress-
makers and milliners bills. 1--we
almost forgotten how to sign a check.
Really