"I know," chuckled Hiram, remembering what Battick had said about Mr. Stephen Bronson himself. "Sometimes those gentlemen farmers show the old timers a thing or two."
"Yes. They can afford to experiment and try out new things. However, that is not just what we were getting at. If I sell this farm for a good price I must have a good house on it. I mean to build on the site of the old house that was burned. I shall have to bring workmen here and lodge and feed them. As there are no neighbors who make a practice of taking boarders, other than their own farm help, I shall have to put up a shack, hire a cook, and feed the gang for three months at least."
"I see," said Hiram. "And I can get my meals with them."
"Yes. That is my idea. So if you can get along alone for a while—"
"Of course I can, Mr. Bronson."
"I will have a shack built and a kitchen and bunks established just as soon as the weather is warm enough. Meanwhile my trucks, when not otherwise in use, can be hauling the frame and lumber for the new house."
"One word, Mr. Bronson," said Hiram Strong quickly. "As long as you must build a shed, why not build one that will afterward house these new tools you propose to buy for my use? I see there is no storage room for such things save on the barn floor, and in time they will be in the way there."
A gleam of approval flashed into Mr. Bronson's eyes.
"Good idea, Hiram! And you are as full of good ideas as an egg is of meat," said Mr. Bronson with enthusiasm. "Have you thought of any particular way in which this farm should be run—for the biggest profit, I mean?" and the man smiled at Hiram curiously.
"I'll tell you what struck me right off the reel, Mr. Bronson," said the youth thoughtfully. "But it is only a thought."