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Updated: June 10, 2025
Atterson, Sister, Old Lem, and Hiram himself enjoyed the work to the full. Hiram Strong had decided that the market prospects of Scoville prophesied a good price for early tomatoes. He advised, therefore, a good sized patch of this vegetable. He had planted in the window boxes seed of several different varieties. He had transplanted to the coldframe strong plants numbering nearly five hundred.
It was now almost as low as it had been the day Lettie Bronson's boating party had been "wrecked" under the big sycamore. Hiram had not seen the Bronsons for some weeks, but about the time he got his late corn planted, Mr. Bronson drove into the Atterson yard, and found Hiram cultivating his first corn with the five-tooth cultivator.
After dinner Fred Crackit, in a speech that was designed to be humorous, presented a massive silver plated water-pitcher with "Mother Atterson" engraved upon it. And really, the old lady broke down at that. "Good Land o' Goshen!" she exclaimed. "Why, you boys do think something of the old woman, after all, don't ye?
Not many of them had been upon the Atterson place to see what he had done, but they had heard some stories of his proposed crops that amused them. When Mr. Bronson, however, whom the local men knew to be a big farmer in the Middle West, and who owned many farms out there now, spoke favorably of Hiram's work, the local men listened respectfully.
Bronson would be the one to show him the way out of the backwater of Crawberry. Hiram had not forgotten how terribly disappointed he had been when he could not find the gentleman's card in the sewer excavation. And later, when Mr. Bronson had suggested that he leave Mrs. Atterson and come to him to work, Hiram feared that he had missed an opportunity that would never be offered him again.
"Jeptha Atterson was no fool," interrupted Pollock. "I can't understand his giving an option on the farm, with all this talk of the railroad crossing the river." "But, Mr. Pollock!" exclaimed Hiram, eagerly, "you must know all about this option. You signed as a witness to Uncle Jeptha's signature." "No! you don't mean that?" exclaimed the farmer. "My name to it, too?" "Yes.
"You're pretty young to take such responsibility upon your shoulders, are you not?" queried the gentleman, eyeing him curiously. "I'm seventeen. I began to work with my father as soon as I could lift a hoe. I love farm work. And I've passed my word to stick to Mrs. Atterson." "That's the old lady up to the house?" "Yes, sir."
Hiram had not forgotten this, and the second Sunday of their stay at the farm, after the whole family had attended service at a chapel less than half a mile up the road, he had urged Mrs. Atterson to walk with him through the timber to the riverside. "For the Land o' Goshen!" the ex-boarding house mistress had finally exclaimed. "To think that I own all of this.
"And I don't expect her folks whoever they be will ever look her up now, Hiram." "But with the timber cut and this side hill cleared, you would have a very valuable thirty acres, or so, of tillage valuable for almost any crop, and early, too, for it slopes toward the sun," said the young farmer, ignoring the other's observation. "Well, well! it's wonderful," returned Mrs. Atterson.
If the fellow had removed this burr, he had done it without anybody seeing him, and had then run home. The young farmer, much disturbed over this incident, mounted the back of the old horse, and paced home. He only told Mrs. Atterson that he had met with an accident and that the light wagon would have to be repaired before it could be used again.
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