In the settlement that followed, nobody got the better of Jared. There were itching fingers among the neighbours, and sharp wits too in the family itself, but Jared shrewdly held his own. He climbed into the saddle and stuck there. He cajoled when he could, and browbeat when he must. "No, he ain't no fool," said Cousin Jehiel, who had come up from Bainesville, with his eye on a certain harvester and binder. "He may make the farm pay, even if the old man didn't." About this time Jared, partly for solace, subscribed to an art journal. It came once a month, and its revelations astounded him. He took a day off and went into "the city," and spent eleven dollars to satisfy himself that such things could really be. "I declare, Melissa," he reported to the daughter of the county attorney on his return to Hayesville, "but it was an eye-opener. The way the people poured into that place!--and just to look at creeks and corn-fields and sacks of potatoes!" "Of course," replied the girl. "Why not? Doesn't your paper tell you that the hope of American art is in the West, and that the best thing we can do is to paint the familiar things of daily life? That's all the cry just now, and you want to take advantage of it." "And there was a sort of book," pursued Jared, "hung up by the door near the desk where that girl sat and kept track of things. I see people looking at it, so I looked too. You won't believe me! 'No. 137, two hundred and fifty dollars. No. 294, six hundred and seventy-five dollars.' I looked for No. 137, and what do you suppose it was when I found it? It wasn't more'n two foot by eighteen inches--just a river and a haystack and a cow or two. No. 294 was some bigger, but there wasn't nothin' in it except a corn-field--just a plain corn-field, with some hills 'way off and mebbe a few clouds. And there was a ticket on it, and it said 'Sold.' What do you think of that?" "That's all right," said Melissa. "If you want to get money, you've got to get it out of the people that have got it. And you've got to go where they are _to_ get it." "And there was another picture that the book said was 'still life'--apples and ears of corn and a bunch of celery or such and a summer squash. Not my kind, but a squash all the same. About a foot square--one hundred and twenty dollars. What do you think of that?" "I think the squash has its chance, the same as anything else." "I asked the girl who it was painted all these things. 'This is the second annual ex'bition of the Society of Western Artists,' says she." "There!" cried Melissa. "'Western artists'!" "'Are they all for sale?' says I. "'Cert'nly,' says she. "'Are folks interested?' says I. "'Look around you,' says she.