"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. And either 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."