Peter

Peter is an amusing character. He is very polite and devoted to me and willing to do anything for me but he has no exalted opinion of women as directors or managers. He listens to my directions and commands and goes and does what he pleases. The other day I wanted him to go to the lots in the north east corner of Hermosa about one quarter mile from here and dig up some large rose bushes Mrs. Alind owned up there and would sell me. I explained just where it was and he said “Yes, yes” he knew all about it. He was to go with the wheelbarrow as I wanted one moved with special care. I went up with the horse and buggy. I went up and I waited and waited and no Peter. It looked like rain and after a time, knowing there must be some mistake, I started for home. As I passed the Alind’s I saw Peter hurrying out with his wheelbarrow. (The Alinds joined us on the north and Mrs. A has a nursery of young roses.) I said “Peter why did you not come?” “Oh”, said he, looking rather foolish, “I supposed Mrs. Turner meant Mrs. Alind’s.”  So he had listened and said “yes” and thought all the time that I didn’t know what I was talking about. Well! I turned around and went back to the place and Peter followed. I pointed out the rose bushes and he dug and placed them in the buggy. Then I showed him my special pet explaining how I wanted it dug with great care, “balled” as they call it, and wrapped in burlap. “Yes. Yes.” He understood. It was beginning to rain and I drove home. When I took my large roses to the place where I had ordered Peter to dig exrta large holes, I found he had only made small places suitable for small rose cuttings. I smiled grimly. Peter soon came wheeling his barrow with my pet rose roots in the air branches down and not a bit of earth left on the roots. Too absurd! When I asked him why he had not dug large holes as I has told him, he said “I thought Mrs. Turner get roses at Alinds I knew they were all small etc.” He had thought I did not know what I was talking about.

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