"Why, Mrs. Atterson!" gasped Hiram. "He must have left you the
farm."

"That's what I said," returned the old lady, complacently. "And
what I'm to do with it I've no more idea than the man in the
moon."

"A farm!" repeated Hiram, his face flushing and his eyes
beginning to shine.

Now, Hiram Strong was not a particularly handsome youth, but in
his excitement he almost looked so.

"Eighty acres, so many rods, and so many perches," pursued
Mrs. Atterson, nodding. "That's the way it reads. The perches
is in the henhouse, I s'pose--though why the description included
them and not the hens' nests I dunno."

"Eighty acres of land!" repeated Hiram in a daze.

"All free and clear. Not a dollar against it--only encumbrances
is the chickens, the cow, the horse and the pigs," declared
Mrs. Atterson. "If it wasn't for them it might not be so bad.
Scoville's an awfully nice place, and the farm's on an automobile
road. A body needn't go blind looking for somebody to go by the
door occasionally.

"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