To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank from the ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one to show him the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how terribly disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's card in the sewer excavation.
And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity that would never be offered him again. His contract was practically over with his present employer, and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire greater things in the farming line.
It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired very strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn how to handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a “one-horse farmer” to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended by Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young farmer's mind.
When he went to the Bronson's house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. Bronson met him cordially, in the library.
“Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!” exclaimed the Westerner.
“Done what?” queried Hiram.
“Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever saw. Is that right?”
“I've succeeded in what I set out to do,” said Hiram, modestly.
“And I did not believe myself that you could do it,” declared the gentleman. “And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas,” added Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's.
“You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a young men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, and finally take him back West with me.