“I'm trying onions and celery down here. I want to put a commercial crop into this field next year—if we are let stay here—that will pay Mrs. Atterson and me a real profit,” and Hiram laughed.
“What do you call a real profit?” inquired Mr. Bronson, seriously.
“Four hundred dollars an acre, net,” said the young farmer, promptly.
“Why, Hiram, you can't do that!” cried the gentleman.
“It's being done—in other localities and on soil not so rich as this—and I believe I can do it.”
“With onions or celery?” “Yes, sir.” “Which—or both?” asked the Westerner, interested.
“I am trying them out here, as you see. I believe it will be celery. This soil is naturally wet, and celery is a glutton for water. Then, it is a late piece, and celery should be transplanted twice before it is put in the field, I believe.”
“A lot of work, boy,” said Mr. Bronson, shaking his head.
“Well, I never expect to get something for nothing,” remarked Hiram.
“And how about the onions?”