“I've heard that before,” said Henry, sighing.
“And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold.”
CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING
Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened—in September. She was delighted, for although she had had “lessons” at the “institution”, they had not been like this regular attendance, with other free and happy children, at a good country school.
Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement in her appearance was something marvelous.
“It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun and the way she looked when she come to me from the charity school,” declared Mother Atterson.
“Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any mother's heart, she'd be.
“If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram.”
“They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness,” admitted the young farmer.