He went on to the row of poultry houses and entered the first one. This was the incubator house of which Mr. Battick had told him. It was a well-built and comfortable place. There was a good-sized pot stove and a bunk to sleep in. There was a cupboard, too, and a table and a chair. "Guess I can make out here for a while, at any rate," he thought as he came out-of-doors again. "Of course, later I shan't have time to get my own meals; but at first--Ah! here comes an automobile. I wonder if this is not Mr. Bronson now?" and he started for the gate to meet the machine. CHAPTER VI FARMING AND FURBELOWS The motor-car that came swiftly along the ridge road to the gate of Sunnyside Farm was a big, seven-passenger touring car. Behind the wheel sat a big man in a fur coat. To tell the truth, however, it was not Mr. Bronson, his employer, at whom Hiram Strong first looked. He had caught sight of a veil trailing upon the wind from the tonneau. A girl sat there--a very winsome looking, bright-faced girl--and before the car stopped she had spied Hiram and waved a gloved hand at him, shouting: "Oh, Hiram Strong! isn't this a beautiful spot? How are you?" "I'm all right, Miss Lettie," he said answering the second question first. "I guess it is pretty here at Sunnyside in summer. But look at those wheels and mudguards!" Mr. Bronson began to chuckle, shutting off his engine. "Hiram's right, Lettie," he said to his daughter. "You'd better stay in the car and keep out of this mud. What do you think of the drainage hereabout, Hi?" He stepped out of the car himself and shook hands with Hiram, man to man. It was evident by his manner and look that Mr. Stephen Bronson both liked and respected Hiram Strong. "I haven't had much time to look about, Mr. Bronson," replied the youth, "only got here an hour ago. But it does look as though that field yonder"--and he pointed to one at the east of the house lot that was covered with shallow puddles--"would be the better for some tiling." "And yet it is high and should be dry." "All high land isn't dry--that piece proves it. What's in it?" "Wheat." "Thought so. It won't be much of a crop, I fear." "How much tiling would it need to drain that whole piece properly, do you think? I understand from the farmers about here that that twenty acres has never made heavy crops--neither of corn nor grain. It has been limed well, too." "The litmus paper test will prove or disprove that," said Hiram. "But it is high, almost level land, and right along the roadside. It ought to grow you a good crop to advertise the farm." "I presume that's so, Hiram," laughed Mr. Bronson. "But a carload of tiles, and dragged clear up here from the siding at Pringleton, would cost a heap of money." "Yes," agreed the young farmer. "Perhaps you had better make the better fields pay in advance for the improvements on the poor ones."