“It appeared to me ’twas about time we got acquainted,” he remarked, sociably. “I had some expectations you might drop in on me come milking time last night, but I suppose you had other engagements. Can you spare time to sit awhile? Your friends seem to feel to home,” said Hiram, with a wave of his hand toward Snip and Snap, who had followed Polly and were racing up the steep stairs to the hay loft.
“I can stay till Miss Pomeroy wants me,” said Polly, delightedly, as she slid onto the end of the bench. “Is there room for me here, Mr. Hiram?”
[Illustration: IS THERE ANY ROOM FOR ME HERE?]
“Let’s see,” said Hiram, gravely, taking a foot rule from his pocket and measuring the distance between Polly and some bells lying beside him on the bench. “There’s most a yard leeway; if you don’t wriggle more’n twelve inches this way there’ll be no trouble.”
Hiram closed the rule and put it in his pocket. As he did this Polly heard a subdued chuckle. She clasped her arms about her knees and rocked back and forth on the fence, laughing gayly.
“Oh, you’re some like Uncle Sam Blodgett!” she cried, as Hiram looked at her in pretended alarm. “That’s the way he used to talk to me, all solemn, but with the fun inside of him. Oh, I like folks that talk like you and Uncle Blodgett!”
Hiram rose from the bench, and made a low bow to Polly, the bells jingling in his hands.
“That’s the first compliment that’s come my way since I got through my schooling,” he said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “While I was ’tending school the teachers would praise me up because I had a good head for remembering. I could recite pieces. There was a piece beginning ‘On Linden when the sun was low,’ that was in considerable demand. I presume I could recollect it, if given time.”
“Oh, will you please say it to me, some time?” pleaded Polly. “I do love to hear poetry!”
“I’ll teach it to ye, gestures and all,” said Hiram, much gratified. “There’s a good deal depends on the gestures, mind. What’s this now, coming to interrupt?” he added, as Arctura appeared in the doorway.
“Mis’ Deacon Talcott has come to call, and Miss Hetty told me to send Mary in,” said Arctura. “She’s a real pleasant woman, you won’t mind her.” She straightened out Polly’s apron bows, and the little girl walked slowly away, after saying good-by to her host and promising to “call again soon.”