When these matters were all discussed and the little memorandum signed, Hiram Strong, in his own room, thought the situation over very seriously. He was facing the biggest responsibility that he had obliged to assume in his whole life. This was no boyish job; it was man's work. He had put his hand to an agreement that might influence his whole future, and certainly would make or break his credit as a trustworthy youth and one of his word. During these past days Hiram had determined to “get back to the soil” and to get back to it in a business-like way. He desired to make good for Mrs. Atterson so that he might some time have the chance to make good for somebody else on a bigger scale. He did not propose to be “a one-horse farmer” all his days. CHAPTER X. THE SOUND OF BEATING HOOFS On Monday morning Mrs. Atterson put her house in the agent's hands. On Wednesday a pair of spinster ladies came to look at it. They came again on Thursday and again on Friday. Friday being considered an “unlucky” day they did not bind the bargain; but on Saturday money was passed, and the new keepers of the house were to take possession in a week. Not until then were the boarders informed of Mother Atterson's change of circumstances, and the fact that she was going to graduate from the boarding house kitchen to the farm. After all, they were sorry--those light-headed, irresponsible young men. There wasn't one of them, from Crackit down the line, who could not easily remember some special kindness that marked the old lady's intercourse with him. As soon as the fact was announced that the boarding house had changed hands, the boarders were up in arms. There was a wild gabble of voices, over the supper table that night. Crackit led the chorus. “It's a mean trick. Mother Atterson has sold us like so many cattle to the highest bidder. Ungrateful--right down ungrateful, I call it,” he declared. “What do you say, Feeble?” “It is particularly distasteful to me just now,” complained the invalid. “When Sister has learned to give me my hot water at just the right temperature,” and he took a sip of that innocent beverage. “Don't you suppose we could prevail upon the old lady to renig?” “She's bound to put us off with half rations for the rest of the time she stays,” declared Crackit, shaking his head wisely. “She's got nothing to lose now. She don't care if we all up and leave--after she gets hers.” “That's always the way,” feebly remarked Mr. Peebles. “Just as soon as I really get settled down into a half-decent lodging, something happens.” Mr. Peebles had been a fixture at Mother Atterson's for nearly ten years. Only Old Lem Camp had been longer at the place. The latter was the only boarder who had no adverse criticism for the mistress's new move. Indeed this evening Mr. Camp said nothing whatever; even his usual mumblings to himself were not heard. He ate slowly, and but little. He was still sitting at the table when all the others had departed.