not encourage Hiram to advise Mrs. Atterson to try and raise anything
for the canneries. A profit could not be made out of such crops on a
one-horse farm.

For instance, the neighboring farmers did not plant their tomato seeds
until it was pretty safe to do so in the open ground. The cannery did
not want the tomato pack to come on until late in August. By that time
the cream of the prices for garden-grown tomatoes had been skimmed by
the early truckers.

The same with sweet corn and green beans. The cannery demanded these
vegetables at so late a date that the market-price was generally low.

These facts Hiram bore in mind as he planned his season's work, and
especially the kitchen garden. This latter he planned to be about two
acres in extent--rather a large plot, but he proposed to set his rows
of almost every vegetable far enough apart to be worked with a horse
cultivator.

Some crops--for instance onions, carrots, and other "fine stuff"--must
be weeded by hand to an extent, and if the soil is rich enough rows
twelve or fifteen inches apart show better results.

Between such rows a wheelhoe can be used to good advantage, and that
was one tool--with a seed-sowing combination--that Hiram had told Mrs.
Atterson she must buy if he was to practically attend to the whole farm
for her. Hand-hoeing, in both field and garden crops, is antediluvian.

Thus, during this week and a half of preparation, Hiram made ready for
the uprooting of Mrs. Atterson from the boarding house in Crawberry to
the farm some distance out of Scoville.

The good lady had but one wagon load of goods to be transferred from
her old quarters to the new home. Many of the articles she brought were
heirlooms which she had stored in the boarding house cellar, or articles
associated with her happy married life, which had been shortened by her
husband's death when he was comparatively a young man.

These Mrs. Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday morning,
and she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside the driver
herself and riding with him all the way.

The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two spinster
ladies had already taken possession, and had served breakfast to the
disgruntled members of Mother Atterson's family.

"You'll be back again," prophesied Mr. Crackit, shaking the old lady by
the hand. "And when you do, just let me know. I'll come and board with
you."

"I wouldn't have you in my house again, Fre