It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired very strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn how to handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a "one-horse farmer" to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended by Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young farmer's mind.
When he went to the Bronson!s house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. Bronson met him cordially, in the library.
"Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!" exclaimed the Westerner.
"Done what?" queried Hiram.
"Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever saw. Is that right?""I've succeeded in what I set out to do," said Hiram, modestly.
"And I did not believe myself that you could do it," declared the gentleman. "And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas," added Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's.
"You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a young men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, and finally take him back West with me.
"I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but goodfarm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one--a young man. I ran against a promising lad before you came to the Atterson place; but I lost track of him.
"Had you been willing to leave Mrs. Atterson and come to me," continued Mr. Bronson, "I believe I could have licked you into shape last season so that you would have suited me very well," and he laughed outright.
"But now I want you to meet my future farm-manager. He is the very fellow I wanted before I offered the chance to you. I reckon you'll be glad to see him---"While he was talking, Mr. Bronson had put his hand on Hiram's shoulder, and urged him down the length of the room. They had come to a heavy portiere; Hiram thought it masked a doorway.
"Here is the fellow himself," exclaimed Bronson. suddenly.
The curtain was whisked away. Hiram heard Lettie giggling somewhere in the folds of it. And he found himself staring straight into a long mirror which reflected both himself and the laughing Mr. Bronson.
"Hiram Strong!" spoke the Westerner, admonishingly, "why didn't you tell me long ago that you were the lad who turned my horses out of the ditch that evening back in Crawberry?""Why--why---"
"His fatal modesty," laughed Lettie, appearing and clapping her hands. "I guess it wasn't that," said Hiram, slowly. "What was the use? I would have been glad of your assistance at the time; but when I found you I had already made a contract with Mrs. Atterson, and--what was the use?" "Well, perhaps it would have made no difference. When I had dug up the fact that you were the same fellow whom I had looked for at Dwight's Emporium, it struck me that possibly the character that old scoundrel gaveyou had some basis in fact.
"So I said nothing to you after you had refused to break your contract. That, Hiram, was a good point in your favor. And what that little girl at your house has told Lettie about you--and the way Mrs. Atterson speaks of you, and all--long since convinced me that you were just the lad I wanted.
"Now, Hiram, I believe you know a good deal about farming that Idon't know myself. And, at any rate, if you can do what you have done with a run-down place like the Atterson Eighty, I'd like to see what you can do with a bigger and better farm.
"What do you say? Will you come to me--if only for a year? I'll make it worth your while."And that Hiram Strong did not let this opportunity slip past him will be shown in the next volume of this series, entitled: "Hiram in the Middle West; Or, A Young Farmer's Upward Struggle."He was sorry to leave Mrs. Atterson at Christmas time; but the old lady saw that it was to Hiram's advantage to go.
"And good land o' Goshen, Hiram!I wouldn't stand in no boy's way--not a boy like you, leastways. You've always been square with me, and you've given me a new lease of life. For I never would have dared to give up the boarding house and come to the farm if it hadn't been for you.
"This is your home--jest as much as it is Sister's home, and Old Lem Camp's. Don't forgit that, Hiram.
"You'll find us all here whenever you want to come back to it. For I've talked with Mr. Strickland and I'm going to adopt Sister, all reg'lar, and she shall have what I leave when I die, only promising to give Mr. Camp a shelter, if he should outlast me.
"Sister's folks may never look her up, and she may never git that money the institution folk think is coming to her. But she'll be well fixed here, that's sure."Indeed, taking it all around, everybody of importance to the story seemed to be "well fixed", as Mother Atterson expressed it. She herself need never be disturbed by the vagaries of boarders, or troubled in her mind, either waking or sleeping, about the gravy--save on Thanksgiving Day.
Old Lem Camp and Sister were provided for by their own exertions and Mrs. Atterson's kindness. The Dickersons--even Pete--had become friendly neighbors. Henry Pollock had waked up his father, and they were running the Pollock farm on much more modern lines than before.
And Hiram himself was looking ahead to a scheme of life that suited him, and to a chance "to make good" on a much larger scale than he hadon the Atterson Eighty where, nevertheless, he had made the soil pay.
