HIRAM found Abel Pollock mending harness in the shed. Hiram opened his business bluntly, and told the farmer what was up. Mr. Pollock scratched his head, listened attentively¹, and then sat down to digest the news.  
“You gotter move—jest when you've got rightly settled on that place?” he demanded. “Well, that's 'tarnal bad! And from what Henry tells me, you're a young feller with idees, too.”
 
“I don't care so much for myself,” Hiram hastened to say. “It's Mrs. Atterson I'm thinking about. And she had just made up her mind that she was anchored for the rest of her life. Besides, I don't think it is a wise thing to sell the property at that price.”
 
“No. I wouldn't sell if I was her, for no sixteen hundred dollars.”
 
“But she's got to, you see, Mr. Pollock. Pepper has the option signed by her Uncle Jeptha——”
 
“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. And it was signed before Caleb Schell the notary³ public.”
 
“So it was—so it was, boy!” declared the other, suddenly smiting⁴ his knee. “I remember I witnessed Uncle Jeptha's signature once. But that was way back there in the winter—before he was took sick.”
 
“Yes, sir?” said Hiram, eagerly.
 
“That was an option on the old farm. So it was. But goodness me, boy, Pepper must have got him to renew it, or something. That option wouldn't have run till now.”
 
Hiram told him the date the paper was executed.
 
“That's right, by Jo! It was in February.”
 
“And it was for a year?”
 
Mr. Pollock stared at him in silence, evidently thinking deeply.
 
“If you remember all about it, then,” Hiram continued, “it's hardly worth while going to Mr. Schell, I suppose.”
 
“I remember, all right,” said Pollock, slowly. “It was all done right there in Cale Schell's store. It was one rainy afternoon. There was several of us sitting around Cale's stove. Pepper was one of us. In comes Uncle Jeptha. Pepper got after him right away, but sort of on the quiet, to one side.
 
“I heard 'em. Pepper had made him an offer for the farm that was 'way down low, and the old man laughed at him.
 
“We hadn't none of us heard then the talk that came later about the railroad. But Pepper has a brother-in-law who's in the office of the company, and he thinks he gits inside information.
 
“So, for some reason, he thought the railroad was going to touch Uncle Jeptha's farm. O' course, it ain't. It's goin' over the river by Ayertown.
 
“I don't see what Pepper wants to take up the option for, anyway. Unless he sees that you're likely to make suthin' out o' the old place, and mebbe he's got a city feller on the string, to buy it.”
 
“It doesn't matter what his reason is. Mrs. Atterson doesn't want to sell, and if that option is all right, she must,” said Hiram. “And you are sure Uncle Jeptha gave it for twelve months?”
 
“Twelve months?” ejaculated Pollock, suddenly. “Why—no—that don't seem right,” stammered⁵ the farmer, scratching his head.
 
“But that's the way the option reads.”
 
“Well—mebbe. I didn't just read it myself—no, sir. They jest says to me:
 
“'Come here, Pollock, and witness these signatures' So, I done it—that's all. But I see Cale put on his specs and read the durn thing through before he stamped it. Yes, sir. Cale's the carefulest notary public we ever had around here.
 
“Say!” said Mr. Pollock. “You go to Cale and ask him. It don't seem to me the old man give Pepper so long a time.”
 
“For how long was the option to run, then?” queried⁶ Hiram, excitedly.
 
“Wal, I wouldn't wanter say. I don't wanter git inter² trouble with no neighbor. If Cale says a year is all right, then I'll say so, too. I wouldn't jest trust my memory.”
 
“But there is some doubt in your mind, Mr. Pollock?”
 
“There is. A good deal of doubt,” the farmer assured him. “But you ask Cale.”
 
This was all that Hiram could get out of the elder Pollock. It was not very comforting. The young farmer was of two minds whether he should see Caleb Schell, or not.
 
But when he got back to the house for supper, and saw the doleful faces of the three waiting there, he couldn't stand inaction.
 
“If you don't mind, I want to go to town tonight, Mrs. Atterson,” he told the old lady.
 
“All right, Hiram. I expect you've got to look out for yourself, boy. If you can get another job, you take it. It's a 'tarnal shame you didn't take up with that Bronson's offer when he come here after you.”
 
“You needn't feel so,” said Hiram. “You're no more at fault than I am. This thing just happened—nobody could foretell⁷ it. And I'm just as sorry as I can be for you, Mother Atterson.”
 
The old woman wiped her eyes.
 
“Well, Hi, there's other things in this world to worry over besides gravy⁸, I find,” she said. “Some folks is born for trouble, and mebbe we're some of that kind.”
 
It was not exactly Mr. Pollock's doubts that sent Hiram Strong down to the crossroads store that evening. For the farmer had seemed so uncertain that the boy couldn't trust to his memory at all.
 
No. It was Hiram's remembrance of Pepper's stammering⁹ when he spoke¹⁰ about the option. He hesitated to pronounce the length of time the option had been drawn¹¹ for. Was it because he knew there was some trick about the time-limit?
 
Had the real estate man fooled old Uncle Jeptha in the beginning? The dead man had been very shrewd and careful. Everybody said so.
 
He was conscious and of acute mind right up to his death. If there was an option on the farm be surely would have said something about it to Mr. Strickland, or to some of the neighbors.
 
It looked to Hiram as though the old farmer must have believed that the option had expired before the day of his death.
 
Had Pepper only got the old man's promise for a shorter length of time, but substituted the paper reading “one year” when it was signed? Was that the mystery?
 
However, Hiram could not see how that would help Mrs. Atterson, for even testimony¹² of witnesses who heard the discussion between the dead man and the real estate agent, could not controvert¹³ a written instrument. The young fellow knew that.
 
He harnessed the old horse to the light wagon¹⁴ and drove to the crossroads store kept by Caleb Schell. Many of the country people liked to trade with this man because his store was a social gathering-place.
 
Around a hot stove in the winter, and a cold stove at this time of year, the men gathered to discuss the state of the country, local politics, their neighbors' business, and any other topic which was suggested to their more or less idle minds.
 
On the outskirts¹⁵ of the group of older loafers, the growing crop of men who would later take their places in the soap-box forum¹⁶ lingered; while sky-larking about the verge¹⁷ of the crowd were smaller boys who were learning no good, to say the least, in attaching themselves to the older members of the company.
 
There will always be certain men in every community who take delight in po............