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't know 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