“Some rich folks is comin' in and buying up pieces of land and making what they calls 'gentlemen's estates' out o' them. A family named Bronson--Mr. Stephen Bronson, with one little girl--bought the Fleigler place only last month. “They're nice folks,” pursued this amiable but talkative lady, “and they don't live but a mile or so along the Scoville road. You passed the place--white, with green shutters, and a water-tower in the back, when you walked up.” “I remember it,” said Hiram, nodding. “They're western folk. Come clear from out in Injiany, or Illiny, or the like. The girl's going to school and she ain't got no mother, so her father's come on East with her to be near the school. “Well, I can't help you no more. Them hens! Well, I'd sell 'em if I was Mis' Atterson. “Hens ain't much nowadays, anyhow; and I expect a good many of those are too old to lay. Uncle Jeptha couldn't fuss with chickens, and he didn't raise only a smitch of 'em last year and the year before--just them that the hens hatched themselves in stolen nests, and chanced to bring up alive. “You better grease the cart before you use it. It's stood since they hauled in corn last fall. “And look out for Dickerson. Ask him for the things he borrowed. You'll need 'em, p'r'aps, if you're goin' to do any farmin' for Mis' Atterson.” She bustled away. Hiram thought he had heard enough about his neighbors for a while, and he went out to look over the pasture fencing, which was to be his first repair job. He would have that ready to turn the cow and her calf into as soon as the grass began to grow. He rummaged about in what had been half woodshed and half workshop in Uncle Jeptha's time, and found a heavy claw-hammer, a pair of wire cutters, and a pocket full of fence staples. With this outfit he prepared to follow the line fence, which was likewise the pasture fence on the west side, between Mrs. Atterson's and Dickerson's. Where he could, he mended the broken strands of wire. In other places the wires had sagged and were loose. The claw-hammer fixed these like a charm. Slipping the wire into the claw, a single twist of the wrist would usually pick up the sag and make the wire taut again at that point. He drove a few staples, as needed, as he walked along. The pasture partook of the general conformation of the farm--it was rather long and narrow. It had grown to clumps of bushes in spots, and there was sufficient shade. But he did not come to the water until he reached the lower end of the lot. The branch trickled from a spring, or springs, farther east. It made an elbow at the corner of the pasture--the lower south-west corner--and there a water-hole had been scooped out at some past time. This waterhole was deep enough for all purposes, and was shaded by a great oak that had stood there long before the house belonging to Jeptha Atterson had been built.