XVI
You must not think that ranch life consists chiefly of trout-fishing and strawberry-picking, with long intervals of rest under blossoming trees. Some friends—judging from their letters—seem to have an idea that living as we do in this out-of-the-way place, free from social duties, our days are days of elegant leisure, and life just one long holiday. Therefore, to prove to you that we are not being “carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease,” I must tell you some thing of the “demnition grind” of this new life.
Be it known, then, that here it is impossible to obtain house-help even for a day,—the few women living in the hills having more work in their own homes than they are able to do.
We were warned of this before coming up here, and were advised to be sure to bring with us a washing-machine. I well remember that dreary purchase! Outside there was a drizzling rain; inside an interested salesman dragging from its dusty lair the ungainly monster, cheerfully extolling its many merits and possibilities,—a panegyric lost upon one at least of his hearers, who, with a feeling of sadness almost akin to pain, looked at the ugly thing, standing on four straddling stilts, seeing
144
