"I will tell her. But I do not think she would sell for that
price--nothing like it, in fact."

"Well, mebbe she'll feel different when she comes to think it
over. No use for a woman trying to run a farm. And if she has
to pay for everything to be done, she'll be in a hole at the end
of the season. I guess she ain't thought of that?"

"It wouldn't be my place to point it out to her," returned Hiram,
"coolly, if it were so, and I wanted to work for her."

"Humph! Mebbe not. Well, my name's Pepper. Mebbe I'll be out
to see her some day," he said, and turned away.

"He's one of the people who will discourage Mrs. Atterson,"
thought Hiram. "And he has an axe to grind. If I decide to take
the job of making this farm pay, I'm going to have the agreement
in black and white with Mrs. Atterson; for there will be a raft
of Job's comforters, perhaps when we get settled on the place."

It was late in the afternoon before Hiram was ready to start for
the farm itself. He had made some enquiries, and had decided to
stop at a neighbor's for overnight, instead of going to the house
where a lone woman had been left in charge by Mrs. Atterson.

The Pollocks had been recommended to Hiram, and by leaving the
road within half a mile of the Atterson farm, and cutting across
the fields, he came into the dooryard of the Pollock place. A
well-grown boy, not much older than himself, was splitting some
chunks at the woodpile. He stopped work to gaze at the visitor