Entering, he found the old man engaged in some light work.
"Good morning, Squire Green."
"Good morning, Mr. Walton," returned the squire.
He was a small man, with a thin figure, and a face deep seamed with wrinkles, more so than might have been expected in a man of his age, for he was only just turned of sixty; but hard work, poor and scanty food and sharp calculation, were responsible for them.
"How are you gettin' on?" asked the squire.
This was rather a favorite question of his, it being so much the custom for his neighbors to apply to him when in difficulties, so that their misfortune he had come to regard as his harvests..
"I've met with a loss," answered Hiram Walton.
"You don't say so," returned the squire, with instant attention. "What's happened?"
"My cow is dead."
"When did she die?"