And here they were, right in the middle of the Spring work, with crops in the ground and--as Mrs. Atterson agreed--it would be too late to go hunting a farm for this present season. But Hiram kept to work. He had Sister and Old Lem Camp out in the garden, hand-weeding and thinning the carrots, onions, and other tender plants. That Saturday he went through the entire garden--that part already planted--with either the horse cultivator, or his wheel-hoe. In planting parsnips, carrots, and other slow-germinating seeds, he had mixed a few radish seed in the seeding machine; these sprang up quickly and defined the rows, so that the space between rows could be cultivated before the other plants had scarcely broke the surface of the soil. Now these radish were beginning to be big enough to pull. Hiram brought in a few bunches for their dinner on Saturday--the first fruits of the garden. “Now, I dunno why it is,” said Mrs. Atterson, complacently, after setting her teeth in the first radish and relishing its crispness, “but this seems a whole lot better than the radishes we used to buy in Crawberry. I 'spect what's your very own always seems better than other folks's,” and she sighed and shook her head. She was thinking of the thing she had to face on Monday. Hiram hated to see them all so downhearted. Sister's eyes were red from weeping; Old Lem Camp sat at the table, muttering and playing with his food again instead of eating. But Hiram felt as though he could not give up to the disaster that had come to them. The thought that--in some way--Pepper was taking an unfair advantage of Mother Atterson knocked continually at the door of his mind. He went over, to himself, all that had passed in the kitchen the day before when the real estate man had come to speak with Mrs. Atterson. How had Pepper spoken about the option? Hadn't there been some hesitancy in the fellow's manner--in his speech, indeed? Just what had Pepper said? Hiram concentrated his mind upon this one thing. What had the man said? “The option had--er--one year to run.” Those were the fellow's very words. He hesitated before he pronounced the length of time. And he was not a man who, in speaking, had any stammering of tongue. Why had he hesitated? Why should it trouble him to state the time limit of the option? Was it because he was speaking a falsehood? The thought stung Hiram like a thorn in the flesh. He put away the tool with which he was working, slipped on a coat, and started for Henry Pollock's house, which lay not more than half a mile from the Atterson farm, across the fields. CHAPTER XIX. THE REASON WHY HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram opened his business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. Mr. Pollock scratched his head, listened attentively, and then sat down to digest the news.