``Set down, set down, neighbor Walton,'' he said.
``We'll talk this thing over. So you've got to have a cow?''
``Yes, I must have one.''
``Goin'
to buy one in town?''
``I
don't know of any that's for sale.''
``How much do you calc-late to pay?''
``I
suppose I'll have to pay thirty dollars.''
``More'n that, neighbor Walton. You can't get a decent cow for thirty dollars.
I hain't got one that isn't wuth more.''
``Thirty dollars is all I can afford to pay, squire.''
``Take my advice, and get a good cow while you're about it. It don't pay to get a poor one.''
``I'm a poor man, squire. I must take what I can get.''
``I
ain't sure but I've got a cow that will suit you, a red with white spots. She's a fust-rate milker.''
``How old is she?''
``She's turned of five.''
``How much do you ask for her?''
``Are you going to pay cash down?'' asked the squire.
``I
can't do that. I'm very short of money.''
``So am I,'' chimed in the squire. ``Money's tight, neighbor.''
``Money's always tight with me, squire,'' returned Hiram Walton, with a sigh.
``Was you a-meanin' to pay anything down?'' inquired the squire.
``I
don't see how I can.''
``That alters the case, you know. I might as well keep the cow as to sell her without the money down.''
``I am willing to pay interest on the money.''
``Of course, that's fair. Wall, neighbor, what do you say to goin' out to see the cow?''
``I'll go along with you.''
``That's the critter,'' he said, pointing out one of the cows who was grazing nearby. ``Ain't she a beauty?''
``She looks pretty well,'' said Mr. Walton. ``What do you ask for her, squire?''
``She's wuth all of forty dollars,'' answered the squire, who knew perfectly well that a fair price would be about thirty.
``That seems high,'' said Hiram.
``She's wuth every cent of it; but I ain't nowise partic'lar about sellin' her.''
``Couldn't you say thirty-seven?''
``Maybe I'd take thirty-eight cash down.''
Hiram Walton shook his head.
``I
have no cash,'' he said. ``I must buy on credit.''
``Wall, then, there's a bargain for you. I'll let you have her for forty dollars, giving you six months to pay it, at reg'lar interest, six per cent. Of course, I expect a little bonus for the accommodation. All I want is a fair price for my time and trouble. We'll say three dollars extra for the accommodation --three dollars down.''
Hiram Walton felt that it was a hard bargain the squire was driving with him, but there seemed no help for it. There was no one else to whom he could look for help on any terms. As to the three dollars, his whole available cash amounted to but four dollars. But the sacrifice must be made.
``Well, Squire Green, if that is your lowest price, I suppose I must come to it,'' he answered, at last.
``If so be as you've made up your mind, we'll make out the papers. When do you want to take the cow?''
``I'll drive her along now, if you are willing.''
``Why, you see,'' said the squire, ``she's been feedin' in my pastur' all mornin', and I calc'late I'm entitled to the next milkin'. You'd better come around to-night just after milkin', and then you can take her.''
``Just as you say,'' he answered. ``I'll come round to-night, or send Harry.''
``How old is Harry, now?''
``About fourteen.''
``Does he go to school?''
``Yes, he's been going to school all the term.''
``He's old enough to give up larnin' altogether. Don't he know how to read and write and cipher?''
``Yes, he's about the best scholar in school.''
``Then, neighbor Walton, take my advice and don't send him any more. You need him at home, and he knows enough to get along in the world.''
``I
want him to learn as much as he can. I'd like to send him to school till he is sixteen.''
``He's had as much schoolin' now as ever I had,'' said the squire, ``and I've got along pooty well. I've been seleckman, and school committy, and filled about every town office, and I never wanted no more schoolin'. My father took me away from school when I was thirteen.''
``Harry's time is too valuable to spend in the school-room,'' said the squire.
``I
can't agree with you, squire. I think no time is better spent than the time that's spent in learning. I wish I could afford to send my boy to college.''
``It would cost a mint of money, and wouldn't pay. Better put him to some good business.''
That was the way he treated his own son, and for this and other reasons, as soon as he arrived at man's estate, he left home, which had never had any pleasant associations with him.
``No wonder he's a poor man,'' thought the squire, after his visitor returned home.
``He ain't got no practical idees. Live and learn! that's all nonsense. His boy looks strong and able to work, and it's foolish sendin' him to school any longer. That wa'n't my way, and see where I am,'' he concluded, with complacent remembrance of his bonds and mortgages and money out at interest. ``That was a pooty good cow trade,'' he concluded. ``I didn't calc'late for to get more'n thirty-five dollars for the critter; but then neighbor Walton had to have a cow, and had to pay my price.''
Now for Hiram Walton's reflections.
``I'm a poor man, but I wouldn't be as mean as Tom Green for all the money he's worth.
He's made a hard bargain with me, but there was no help for it.''
