"Oh, wait!" cried Lettie Bronson, with a pout. "You men have begun talking farming like a house afire--right at the start! I can't get a word in edgewise, and I've got news for Hiram. You know, Hiram, I only came on from St. Beris yesterday, just to remain at Plympton with father over Sunday." "And I only got here last night, Miss Lettie," the young fellow said. "Then we might have traveled together just as well as not!" she cried. "I guess not," laughed her father. "You went to see that machinery we talked about, didn't you, Hi?" "Yes, sir. I went all through the Comet Plow Factory and the big agricultural warehouse in Cincinnati." "You see, Lettie, he was several days coming here from Scoville." "I don't care," Miss Lettie declared, "I want to tell him something he doesn't know." "There are a whole lot of things I guess you could tell me that I don't know, Miss Lettie," said Hiram rather ruefully, for he felt his lack of book knowledge most keenly. "It is about Sister. Cecilia, I suppose her real name is, Hiram?" "But rather stiff and formal for Sister," said the young fellow, dodging the query. "I chanced to ride past the Atterson place," pursued Lettie Bronson, "and Mrs. Atterson was on the porch and waved to me. I rode into the yard, and she was full of the news. It seems that Sister has not known just who her people were." "She was an orphan when Mother Atterson got her," admitted Hiram. "Well, it seems that she really has some relatives, somewhere. And Mrs. Atterson says she thinks there will be some money coming to Sister--Cecilia. She had just received a letter from a lawyer who had been trying to find Cecilia for some time. It's quite a romance, isn't it?" "I am awfully glad for Sister's sake," the young farmer said. "But if she finds her folks I hope they will not take her away from Mother Atterson. She needs Sister." "I did not see Cecilia to speak to," Lettie said. Then to her father: "Now, Papa Bronson, I know you and Hiram want to tramp all over this farm, and you certainly shall not leave me here in the car to catch my death of cold. Let Hiram take me over to Miss Pringle's. She will give me shelter till you are ready to go home again." "Go ahead and take the chatterbox over there, Hiram," said Mr. Bronson. "We'll have no peace until you do." It could not be said honestly that Hiram Strong found Lettie a nuisance, if her father did. He would have enjoyed talking to the pretty girl at any length. When Lettie hopped out of the automobile, too, resting one hand lightly in his, the young farmer saw that she was, as always, very becomingly dressed. Perhaps her outfit was more expensive and somewhat too "grown-up" for a girl of her age; but Hiram--nor Mr. Bronson--did not realize that defect in the motherless girl's garments. That Lettie was growing up too fast for her own good, perhaps, would not appeal to the masculine mind as it would to a thoughtful woman.