"Yes, sir," said Mr. Sweetser. "And this farm I got for sale is
eighty-five acres. Now, suppose you put all that in potatoes. How much
could you get?"
"It would be a lot of money," I said, after a vain attempt to work it
out in my head.
"Not that I'd advise you to put it all in potatoes. There's cows and
corn and berries and pigs. This is lovely country for pigs. You
certainly owe it to yourself to have pigs. If I was a young man I'd just
do nothing but pigs. And there's alfalfa. You can cut that three times a
year, and you get about five tons to the acre. There was a man on a
place right next to mine that put four and a half acres into corn and he
got $349.70 for it."
"How's the house?" I interrupted.
"Oh, don't you bother about the house," said Mr. Sweetser. "It's
comfortable. That's what I'd call it--comfortable. And I allus say
you're not buying houses; they don't count for nothing in the long run;
you're buying land. Even if that was an elegant house, you'd want to fix
it up some way to suit yourself, wouldn't you? I'd like to show you the
place this afternoon. There's good corn, and I know you'd enjoy seeing
the rye and the pigs. But, you see, I'm kinder pressed for time. I'm
superintendent of a big place around here, and I got to look at that,
and later on this afternoon I have to register the alien enemies--the
women, you know--and to-night there's a meeting of the draft board. I
guess I've told you enough, though, about what kind of land it is around
here. Just look at this piece right here."
He led the way across the road.
"You wouldn't find finer soil than that if you was to drive all
afternoon. Just look at it." And he kicked some of the rocks away so
that I could get a closer view.
"Why, the crops alone and the timber ought to pay for this place in a
couple of months. Why, I'd just love to buy it myself if I was a young
fellow and wasn't so busy. If you come up this way again let me know
when to expect you, because I've got to go up and superintend a fair
next Thursday, and on Friday I'm judging chickens, and Saturday the
school board meets."
It was at this point that fate took a hand in the affairs of the busy
Mr. Sweetser for no sooner had we got into the car and started for home
than a tire blew out.
I sat down under a tree to advise the real estate agent and watch him
fix it. An old man from down the road also came over to watch. He was
chewing a straw, and he wore a pair of suspenders called Sampson. I
asked about the weather first, and he said, without much interest, that
it had been too cool and too rainy. Then he took up the questioning.
"What part of the country are you from?" he inquired.