"And if it got so bad here finally that I couldn't make a livin' keeping boarders," pursued the lady, "I might go out there and live in the old house--which isn't much, I know, but it's a shelter, and my tastes are simple, goodness knows.""But a farm, Mrs. Atterson!" broke in Hiram. "Think what you can do with it!""That's what I'd like to have, you, or somebody else tell me," exclaimed the old lady, tartly. "I ain't got no more use for a farm than a cat has for two tails!""But--but isn't it a good farm?" queried Hiram, puzzled.
"How do I know?" snapped the boarding house mistress. "I wouldn'tknow one farm from another, exceptin' two can't be in exactly the same spot. Oh! do you mean, could I sell it?""No---"
"The lawyer advised me not to sell just now. He said something about the state of the real estate market in that section. Prices would be better in a year or two. And then, the old place is mighty run down.""That's what I mean," Hiram hastened to say. "Has it been cropped to death? Is the soil worn out? Can't you run it and make something out of it?""For pity's sake!" ejaculated the good lady, "how should I know? And I couldn't run it--I shouldn't know how.
"I've got a neighbor-woman in the house just now to 'tend to things-- and that's costin' me a dollar and a half a week. And there'll be taxes to pay, and--and-- Well, I just guess I'll have to try and sell it now and take what I can get.
"Though that lawyer says that if the place was fixed up a little and crops put in it would make a thousand dollars' difference in the selling price. That is, after a year or two.
"But bless us and save us" cried Mrs. Atterson, "I'd be swamped with expenses before that time.""Mebbe not," said Hiram Strong, trying to repress his eagerness. "Why not try it?""Try to run that farm?" cried she. "Why, I'd jest as lief go up in one o' those aeroplanes and try to run it. I wouldn't be no more up in the air then than I would be on a farm," she added, grimly.
"Get somebody to run it for you--do the outside work, I mean, Mrs. Atterson," said Hiram. "You could keep house out there just as well as you do here. And it would be easy for you to learn to milk---""That whitefaced cow? My goodness! I'd just as quick learn to milk a switch-engine!""But it's only her head that looks so wicked to you," laughed Hiram. "And you don't milk that end.""Well--mebbe," admitted Mrs. Atterson, doubtfully. "I reckon I could make butter again--I used to do that when I was a girl at my aunt's. Andeither I'd make those hens lay or I'd have their dratted heads off!
"And my goodness me! To get rid of the boarders--Oh, stop your talkin', Hi Strong! That is too good to ever be true. Don't talk to me no more.""But I want to talk to you, Mrs. Atterson," persisted the youth, eagerly. "Well, who'd I get to do the outside work--put in crops, and 'tend 'em,and look out for that old horse?"
Hiram almost choked. This opportunity should not get past him if he could help it!
"Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what I can do," he cried. "Let me run the farm for you!""Why--why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?" demanded his landlady, in wonder.
"Other farms pay; why not this one?" rejoined Hiram, sententiously. "Of course," he added, his native caution coming to the surface, "I'd want to see the place--to look it over pretty well, in fact--before I made any agreement. And I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no chance of both you and me making something out of it I should tell you so.""But--but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going out there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday.""I'll take the early train Monday morning," said the youth, promptly. "But what will they say at the store?Mr. Dwight---""He turned me off to-day," said Hiram, steadily. "So I won't lose anything by going out there.
"I tell you what I'll do," he added briskly. "I won't have any too much money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be out there at Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, it's probable.
"So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I should pay you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own expenses out there at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all well and good."Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on to survey the boy's earnest face.
"Do you mean to say you can run a farm, Hi Strong?" she asked. "I do," and he smiled confidently at her.
"And make it pay?"
"Perhaps not much profit the first season; but if the farm is fertile, and the marketing conditions are right, I know I can make it pay us both in two years.""I've got a little money saved up. I could sell the house in a week, for it's always full and there are always lone women like me with a little driblet of money to exchange for a boarding house--heaven help us for the fools we are!" Mrs. Atterson exclaimed.
"And I expect you could raise vegetables enough to part keep us, Hi, even if the farm wasn't a great success?""And eggs, and chickens, and the pigs, and milk from the cow," suggested Hiram.
"Well! I declare, that's so," admitted Mrs. Atterson. "I'd been lookin' on all them things as an expense. They could be made an asset, eh?""I should hope so," responded Hiram, smiling.
"And I could get rid of these boarders-- My soul and body!" gasped the tired woman, suddenly. "Do you suppose it's true, Hi? Get rid of worryin' about paying the bills, and whether the boarders are all going to keep their jobs and be able to pay regularly-- And the gravy!
"Hiram Strong! If you can show me a way out of this valley of tribulation I'll be the thankfullest woman that you ever seen. It's a bargain. Don't you pay me a cent for this coming week. And I shouldn't have taken it, anyway, when you're throwed out of work so. That's a mighty mean man, that Daniel Dwight.
"You go right ahead and look that farm over. If it looks good, you come back and we'll strike a bargain, I know. And--and-- Just to think of getting rid of this house and these boarders!" and Mrs. Atterson finished by wiping her eyes again vigorously.
