"She has been advised not to sell--at present."

"Who by?"

"Mr. Strickland, the lawyer."

"Humph! Mebbe I'd buy it--and give her a good price for it--right now."

"What do you consider a good price?" asked Hiram, quietly.

"Twelve hundred dollars," said the man.

"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 with much curiosity.

"From what they told me in town," Hi said, holding out his hand with a
smile, "you must be Henry Pollock?"

The boy blushed, but awkwardly took and shook Hi's hand.

"That's what they call me--Henry Pollock--when they don't call me Hen."

"Well, I'll make a bargain with you, Henry," laughed Hiram. "I don't
like to have my name cut off short, either. My name's Hiram Strong. So
if you'll agree to always call me `Hiram' I'll always call you `Henry.'"

"It's a go!" returned the other, shaking hands again. "You going to live
around here? Or are you jest visiting?"

"I don't know yet," confessed Hiram, sitting down beside the boy. "You
see, I've come out to look at the Atterson place."