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Updated: May 11, 2025
At the corner of the street several "slices" of the brick block had been torn away and the lot cleared for the erection of some business building. Running across this open space with wild shrieks and spilling the milk from the big pitcher she carried milk for the boarders' tea, Hi knew came Mrs. Atterson's maid.
They came briskly to the outbuildings belonging to Mrs. Atterson's newly acquired legacy. Hiram glanced into the hog lot. She looked like a good sow, and the six-weeks-old shoats were in good condition. In a couple of weeks they would be big enough to sell if Mrs. Atterson did not care to raise them. The shoats were worth six dollars a pair, too; he had inquired the day before about them.
Atterson's face was a study. "Do you mean to tell me we have got to lose the farm?" she demanded. "My dear lady, that I cannot tell you. I must see this option. We must put it to the test " "But Schell and Pollock will testify that the option was for thirty days," cried Hiram. "Perhaps. To the best of their remembrance and belief, it was for thirty days.
"I'm talking to this fellow: What's the trouble here?" "Your horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land," Hiram said, quietly. "You know that stock which strays can be held for a dollar a head damage or no damage to crops. I warn you, keep your horses on your own land."
"Tell your father to come here," commanded the young farmer, fire in his eyes. "We'll settle this thing here and now. "These horses are on Mrs. Atterson's land. I know the county stock law as well as you do. You cut this fence, and your cattle are on her ground. "It will cost you a dollar a head to get them off again if Mrs. Atterson wishes to demand it. Now, call your father."
Atterson saw piled on the wagon early on Saturday morning, and she had insisted upon climbing upon the seat beside the driver herself and riding with him all the way. The boarders gathered on the steps to see her go. The two spinster ladies had already taken possession, and had served breakfast to the disgruntled members of Mother Atterson's family. "You'll be back again," prophesied Mr.
"Say! you're the fellow who's going to live at Atterson's place?" observed Pete. "I'll see you later," and he waved his hand airily as he rode off. "So that's Pete Dickerson, is it?" ruminated Hiram, as he watched the horses out of sight. "Well, if his father, Sam, is anything like him, we certainly have got a sweet pair of neighbors!"
"Sister," as the boarders all called her, for lack of any other cognomen, would have her yellow hair in four attenuated pigtails hanging down her back, and she would shuffle about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old shoes "By Jove! there she is now," exclaimed the startled youth.
"Of course," said Hiram, slowly, handing back the paper indeed, Pepper had kept the grip of his forefinger and thumb on it all the time "Of course, Mrs. Atterson's lawyer must see this before she agrees to anything." "Why, Hiram! I ain't got no lawyer," exclaimed the old lady. "Go to Mr. Strickland, who made Uncle Jeptha's will," Hiram said to her.
With her heat-blistered face, near-sighted eyes peering through beclouded spectacles, and her gown buttoned up hurriedly and with a gap here and there where a button was missing, she was the typically frowsy, hurried, nagged-to-death boarding house mistress. And as for "Sister," Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and maid-of-all-work
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