will never get me anywhere," he thought, turning finally away
from the open country and starting down the steep hill.

"Why, there are college boys working on our street cars
here--waiting for some better job to turn up. What chance does a
fellow stand who's only got a country school education?

"And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry--fun
that doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more
than enough to pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a
new suit of overalls and a pair of shoes occasionally.

"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.