Hiram stood up and, in the light of the early sunset, he caught a glimpse of the roof in question.
“Your folks going to buy it of the old lady Uncle Jeptha left it to?” asked Henry, with pardonable curiosity. “Or are you going to rent it?”
“What do you think of renting it?” queried Hiram, showing that he had Yankee blood in him by answering one question with another.
“Well—it's pretty well run down, and that's a fact. The old man couldn't do much the last few years, and them Dickersons who farmed it for him ain't no great shakes of farmers, now I tell you!”
“Well, I want to look the farm over before I decide what I'll do,” said Hiram, slowly. “And of course I can't do that to-night. They told me in town that sometimes you take boarders?”
“In the summer we do,” returned Henry.
“Do you think your folks will put me up overnight?”
“Why, I reckon so—Hiram Strong, did you say your name was? Come right in,” added Henry, hospitably, “and I'll ask mother.”