“Now, Hiram! This is very important. We want you to meet somebody,” said Lettie, her eyes dancing. “Somebody very particular. Now! do say you'll come like a good boy, and not keep me teasing.”
“Well, I'll come, Miss Lettie,” he finally agreed, and she gave him a most charming smile.
Lettie's two friends had waited for her, very much amused.
“I declare, Let!” cried one of them—and her voice reached Hiram's ears quite plainly. “You do have the queerest friends. Why did you stop to speak to that yokel?”
“Hush! he'll hear you,” said Miss Bronson; yet she smiled, too. “So you think Hiram is a yokel, do you?”
“Hiram!” repeated her friend. “Goodness me! I should think the name was enough. And those boots—and overalls!”
“Well,” said Lettie, still amused, “I've seen my own father in just such a costume. And you know very well that he is a pretty good looking man, dressed up.”
“But Let! your father's never a farmer$” gasped the other girl.
“Why not?”
“Oh, she's just joking us,” laughed the third girl. “Of course he's a farmer—he owns half a dozen farms. But he's the kind of a farmer who rides around in his automobile and looks over his crops.”