ad latterly
fallen within his range of vision in Main Street. He availed himself of
this nearer view to survey Samuel Holton's younger son deliberately.
Fred waited an instant for the banker to make a sign. Amzi took a step
toward him and Fred advanced and offered his hand.

"How d' ye do, Fred," said Amzi, and looked him over again. He addressed
him quite as cordially as he would have spoken to any other young man he
might have found there. "Perry has told me about you. I guess you've got
quite a job over there."

"Yes, but I was looking for a job when I took it," said Fred.

"I like being a farmer myself," said the banker, "when I know the corn's
growing while I'm in bed in town."

"I think I'll stay up nights to watch my corn grow, if it ever does,"
said Fred.

"That land of yours is all right," said Amzi amiably, "but it's got to
be brought up. That farm's been cursed with overdrafts, and overdrafts
in any business are bad."

"That's a new way of putting it," Fred replied, "but I'm sure it's sound
doctrine. You can't take out what you don't put in."

"That," said Amzi, feeling in his pocket for his matchbox, "is a safe
general principle."

He passed his cigar-case to Perry and Fred, commended his own cigars
humorously, and looked Fred over again as the young man refused,
explaining that he had grown used to a pipe and was afraid of the shock
to his system of a good cigar.

"We were going to take a walk over the place; Mr. Montgomery wants to
see his orchard. Come along, won't you?" said Perry.

Fred waited for a confirmation of the tenant's invitation.

"Yes; come along, Fred," said Amzi.

His manner toward Holton was that of an old acquaintance; he called him
Fred quite as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him
to do so. Phil and Perry moved off together and Amzi walked along beside
Fred across a field of wheat stubble toward the orchard that stretched
away on a slope that corresponded to the rise of Listening Hill in the
highway. He talked of fruit-growing in which he appeared to be deeply
interested, and declared that there was no reason why fruit should be
only an insect-blighted by-product of such farms as his; that
intelligent farmers were more and more taking it up. He confessed his
firm belief in scientific farming in all its branches. Most men in small
towns keep some touch with the soil. In a place like Montgomery the soil
is the immediate source of urban prosperity, and