“Let me do it, Mrs. Atterson. Give me a chance to show you what I can do,” he cried. “Let me run the farm for you!”
“Why—why do you suppose that it could be made to pay us, Hi?” demanded his landlady, in wonder.
“Other farms pay; why not this one?” rejoined Hiram, sententiously. “Of course,” he added, his native caution coming to the surface, “I'd want to see the place—to look it over pretty well, in fact—before I made any agreement. And I can assure you, Mrs. Atterson, if I saw no chance of both you and me making something out of it I should tell you so.”
“But—but your job, Hiram? And I wouldn't approve of your going out there and lookin' at the place on a Sunday.”
“I'll take the early train Monday morning,” said the youth, promptly.
“But what will they say at the store? Mr. Dwight——”
“He turned me off to-day,” said Hiram, steadily. “So I won't lose anything by going out there.
“I tell you what I'll do,” he added briskly. “I won't have any too much money while I'm out of a job, of course. And I shall be out there at Scoville a couple of days looking the place over, it's probable.
“So, if you will let me keep this three dollars and a half I should pay you for my next week's board to-night, I'll pay my own expenses out there at the farm and if nothing comes of it, all well and good.”
Mrs. Atterson had fumbled for her spectacles and now put them on to survey the boy's earnest face.