“Farmers don't have to half starve, and be burdened by mortgages and ignorance, any longer. The country sections are waking up. With good schools and good roads, and the grange, and all, many rural districts are already ahead of the cities in the things worth while.” “Listen to Let lecture!” sniffed one of her friends. “All right. You wait. Maybe you'll see that same young fellow--Hi Strong--come through this town in his own auto before you graduate from St. Beris.” “Pshaw!” exclaimed the other. “If I do I'll ask him for a ride,” and the discussion ended in a laugh. Perhaps, however, had Hiram heard all Lettie had said he would not have been so doubtful in regard to fulfilling his promise about taking dinner with Mr. Bronson and his daughter on Saturday evening. To tell the truth, the more he thought of it, the more he shrank from the ordeal. Once he had hoped Mr. Bronson would be the one to show him the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how terribly disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's card in the sewer excavation. And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity that would never be offered him again. His contract was practically over with his present employer, and Hiram's ambition urged him to desire greater things in the farming line. It might be in Mr. Bronson's power to aid the young farmer right along this line. The gentleman owned farms in the Middle West that were being tilled on up-to-date methods, and by modern machinery. Hiram desired very strongly to get upon a place of that character. He wished to learn how to handle tools and machinery which it would never pay a “one-horse farmer” to own. But how deeply had the gentleman been offended by Hiram's refusal to come to work for him when he gave him that opportunity? That was a question that bit deep into the young farmer's mind. When he went to the Bronson's house on Saturday, in good season, Mr. Bronson met him cordially, in the library. “Well, my boy, they all tell me you have done it!” exclaimed the Westerner. “Done what?” queried Hiram. “Made the most money per acre for Mrs. Atterson that this county ever saw. Is that right?” “I've succeeded in what I set out to do,” said Hiram, modestly. “And I did not believe myself that you could do it,” declared the gentleman. “And it's too bad, too, that I was a Doubting Thomas,” added Mr. Bronson, his eyes beginning to dance a good deal like Lettie's. “You see, Hiram, I had it in my mind when I took this place to get a young men from around here and teach him something of my ways of work, and finally take him back West with me. “I have several farms that are paying me good incomes; but good farm-managers are hard to get. I wanted to train one--a young man. I ran against a promising lad before you came to the Atterson place; but I lost track of him.