"She told me that she thinks you are very manly for your age," giggled Lettie, who enjoyed making the youth feel uncomfortable. "And I am sure she thinks your age is just right."
"Hold on, Lettie!" advised her father. "I've heard you praise Hiram yourself on occasion. At least, I never heard you run him down much when talking about him."
This statement closed the girl's lips immediately and gave Hiram peace. But he did not wish Lettie to think for a moment that he considered Miss Pringle's interest in him really earnest. However, during his first week or ten days at Sunnyside Farm Hiram Strong was about as busy as one could be; so he did not have to invent many excuses to escape Miss Pringle's rather pressing attentions.
Farming is an exacting occupation. One cannot let loose ends lie and be successful. Before the actual plowing and planting begins there are innumerable details to be gone into and many matters to be settled, for when the spring work once opens there is time for nothing else. And to Hiram, this first year of his work in this strange section of the country, came more than the ordinary number of affairs to be looked into.
Mr. Bronson sent him over a dependable road horse and a run-about, so that he could get about the neighborhood on such errands as he might find necessary. And one of his first errands was to hunt up the best corn growers in that section and buy seed corn of them.
He believed, as he had shown in farming the Atterson Eighty, that raising such corn as was already being grown in the locality was the wiser course. Corn becomes acclimated, and men who have raised the crop year after year in one neighborhood must know more about the proper seed to use than a stranger.
Methods of raising the crop was another matter. Hiram had certain methods he wished to try out to improve and increase the yield of corn that had nothing to do with locality, climate, or soil. These experiments he would try in any case.
He found one man whose cribs were full of a small-cobbed corn of a yellow dent variety, but with many red kernels interspersed among the yellow on most ears. It might not have been what the judges at a corn show would have called true to type, nor was it a handsome corn. But it was as hard as a rock, well rooted on the cob, and, furthermore, it ground into the finest kind of meal.
"How do you select your seed for this, Mr. Brown?" Hiram asked the farmer.
"I just throw aside what look to me like good ears as the boys bring the corn up from the fields and I count the baskets. I don't try to select ears in the field as I hear they do on the agricultural college farm. That's all flapdoodle," said the old fellow, with evident confidence in his own opinion.