"I'll bet he's not on good terms with his neighbors if he has everything
you speak of in such perfection. These farmers get frightfully jealous
of each other," asserted the Doctor, with a positiveness that seemed to
be born of experience.

"He never quarrelled with one of them in his life," returned the Idiot.
"He doesn't know them well enough to quarrel with them; in fact, I doubt
if he ever sees them at all. He's very exclusive."

"Of course he is a born farmer to get everything the way he has it,"
suggested Mrs. Smithers.

"No, he isn't. He's a broker," said the Idiot, "and a very successful
one. I see him on the street every day."

"Does he employ a man to run the farm?" asked the Clergyman.

"No," returned the Idiot, "he has too much sense and too few dollars to
do any such foolish thing as that."

"It must be one of those self-winding stock farms," put in the
School-master, scornfully. "But I don't see how he can be a successful
broker and make money off his farm at the same time. Your statements do
not agree, either. You said he never had to run for trains."

"Well, he never has," returned the Idiot, calmly. "He never goes near
his farm. He doesn't have to. It's leased to the husband of the
house-keeper whose daughter has a crush on the fire department. He takes
his pay in produce, and gets more than if he took it in cash on the
basis of the New York vegetable market."