Besides the profit from some of the garden crops, this was very small indeed; as Hiram said, it did not pay well enough to plant small patches of corn for them to fool with it much. “The only way to make a good profit out of corn corn a place like this,” he said to Henry, who would not be convinced, “is to have a big drove of hogs and turn them into the field to fatten on the standing corn.” “But that would be wasteful!” cried Henry, shocked at the suggestion. “Big pork producers do not find it so,” returned Hiram, confidently. “Or else one wants a drove of cattle to fatten, and cuts the corn green and shreds it, blowing it into a silo. “The idea is to get the cost of the corn crop back through the price paid by the butcher for your stock, or hogs.” “Nobody ever did that around here,” declared young Pollock. “And that's why nobody gets ahead very fast around here. Henry, why don't you strike out and do something new--just to surprise 'em? “Stop selling a little tad of this, and a little tad of that off the farm and stick to the good farmer's rule: 'Never sell anything off the place that can't walk off.'” “I've heard that before,” said Henry, sighing. “And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold.” CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened--in September. She was delighted, for although she had had “lessons” at the “institution”, they had not been like this regular attendance, with other free and happy children, at a good country school. Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement in her appearance was something marvelous. “It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun and the way she looked when she come to me from the charity school,” declared Mother Atterson. “Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any mother's heart, she'd be. “If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram.” “They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness,” admitted the young farmer. “Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks,” responded Mrs. Atterson. “But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be sorry some day.” “You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?” demanded Hiram. “No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid of a young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have many children of their own. “And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as that lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another reason for losing her in this great world.” “I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson,” said Hiram, shaking his head.