“Here’s the type of boy who’s going to be one of the big men of this town some day,” he said. “And it’s going to mean something to be a big man in this town, for this is going to be a big town. Three cheers for the boy who knows enough to stay East. Now--let ’em out!” Holt was proving that a college education was good for one thing at least; it taught him how to get noise out of a crowd. Leaning over the rail with his two fists clenched and his arms swinging he looked as though he were forcing every man to shout in spite of himself. I know I joined in this time and the sedate committee back of me clapped their hands noisily. As for Dick and Ruth they stood up on their seats and shouted, looking straight into Holt’s eyes as though hypnotized. I handed Wentworth his crisp new bills and saw that there were tears in his eyes. It certainly does stir a man to hear eight or nine hundred people shouting his name as these people did. The fourth envelope contained the name of the winner of the best house garden. Seventy-five dollars was the prize. I had largely to do with this selection. I waited until there was a dead silence and then announced: “It gives me great pleasure to report that this prize has been awarded to Mrs. Lydia A. Cumberland.” I think this came as a surprise, for nearly every man in the village had considered himself a possible winner in this event. My own garden approached the nearest of anyone’s to hers and in the matter of the amount raised really excelled Mrs. Cumberland’s. However, I was of course automatically barred from the competition, owing to my position as judge. Mrs. Cumberland had planted about a half acre in the rear of her house. This soil was naturally rich and she had bestowed infinite pains upon her plants. She was a widow with two children and had supplied her own table out of the produce, put up in glass jars almost enough vegetables to last her through the winter and made a few dollars’ profit in cash besides. I particularly wished to encourage this practice of putting up our own vegetables for winter use and I had brought here with me a sample jar of each vegetable. When the cheering subsided I held up a jar of peas. “Look at them,” I said. Then I did the same with a jar of string beans, a jar of turnips, of squash, of pickled small beets. Each exhibition was greeted with cheering. In the meanwhile Holt had found Mrs. Cumberland, and with her arm through his was escorting her up the steps to the platform. She was a dear, lovable lady of fifty with shy, gentle manners that won everyone’s heart. As she approached, every man including the band rose to his feet and faced her standing. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” she choked. Holt led her to a position in front of the crowd. “The mother of our future pioneers--a pioneer herself,” he said with fine feeling.