"No, sir!" concluded Hiram. "There's nothing in it. Not for a fellow like me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm--and I wish I was there now."He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner at his boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he had nothing to look forward to as he returned but the stuffy parlor of Mrs. Atterson's boarding house, the cold supper in the dining-room, which was attended in a desultory fashion by such of the boarders as were at home, and then a long, dull evening in his room, or bed after attending the evening service at the church around the corner.
Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic remarks about Mrs. Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his class, or the grumbling of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid, or the inane monologue of Old Lem Camp.
And Mrs. Atterson herself--good soul though she was--had gotten on Hiram Strong's nerves, too. 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---
"Well, Sister's the limit!" smiled Hiram, as he turned into the street,with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. "I believe Fred Crackit has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps Sister instead of a cat--so there'll be something to kick."The half-grown girl--narrow-chested, round shouldered, and sallow-- had been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity institution. "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.
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.
Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present "pigtails," bounded a boy of about her own age--a laughing, yelling imp of a boy whom Hiram knew very well.
"That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the town!" he said to himself.
The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more or less noise.
Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk and told Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, yelling to her to "Get up!" and yanking as hard as he could on the braids.
"Here! that's enough of that!" called Hiram, stepping quickly toward the two.
For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears.
"Be off with you!" commanded Hiram. "You've plagued the girl enough.""Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!" returned Dan, Junior, grabbingat Sister's hair again.
Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him around.
"You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister," he said, quietly. "No, you don't!" he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. "You'll stop right here.""Lemme be, Hi Strong!" bawled the other, when he found he could not easily jerk away. "It'll be the worse for you if you don't.""Just you wait until the girl is home," returned Hiram, laughing. It was an easy matter for him to hold the writhing Dan, Junior.
"I'll fix you for this!" squalled the boy. "Wait till I tell my father." "You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth," laughed Hi.
"I'll fix you," repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a vicious kick at his captor.
Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended--under Hi's kneecap--the latter certainly would have been "fixed."But the country youth was too agile for him.
He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and then gave him a backward thrust which sent the lighter boy spinning.
Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path was a puddle several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, staggered back, tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed full length into it.
"Oh, oh!" he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he scrambled out. " I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll catch it for this!""You'd better run home before you catch cold," said Hiram, who could not help laughing at the young rascal's plight. "And let girls alone another time."To himself he said: "Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much more in bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this escapade of his precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, Junior, says.
"Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for another job in a very few days."
