Chapter III. Hiram's Motto

by Horatio Alger

　　There was a little room just off the kitchen, where the squire hadan old-fashioned desk. Here it was that he transacted his business,and in the desk he kept his papers. It was into this room that heintroduced Mr. Walton."Set down, set down, neighbor Walton," he said. "We'll talk thisthing over. So you've got to have a cow?""Yes, I must have one."The squire fixed his eyes cunningly on his intended victim, andsaid, "Goin' to buy one in town?""I don't know of any that's for sale.""How much do you calc'late to pay?""I suppose I'll have to pay thirty dollars."Squire Green shook his head."More'n that, neighbor Walton. You can't get a decent cow forthirty dollars. I hain't got one that isn't wuth more, though I'vegot ten in my barn.""Thirty dollars is all I can afford to pay, squire.""Take my advice, and get a good cow while you're about it. It don'tpay to get a poor one.""I'm a poor man, squire. I must take what I can get.""I ain't sure but I've got a cow that will suit you, a red withwhite spots. She's a fust-rate milker.""How old is she?""She's turned of five.""How much do you ask for her?""Are you going to pay cash down?" asked the squire, half shuttinghis eyes, and looking into the face of his visitor."I can't do that. I'm very short of money.""So am I," chimed in the squire. He had two hundred dollars in hisdesk at that moment waiting for profitable investment; but then hedidn't call it exactly a lie to misrepresent for a purpose. "So amI. Money's tight, neighbor.""Money's always tight with me, squire," returned Hiram Walton, witha sigh."Was you a-meanin' to pay anything down?" inquired the squire."I don't see how I can.""That alters the case, you know. I might as well keep the cow, asto sell her without the money down.""I am willing to pay interest on the money.""Of course that's fair. Wall, neighbor, what do you say to goin'out to see the cow?""Is she in the barn?""No, she's in the pastur'. 'Tain't fur.""I'll go along with you."They made their way by a short cut across a cornfield to thepasture--a large ten-acre lot, covered with a scanty vegetation.The squire's cows could not be said to live in clover."That's the critter," he said, pointing out one of the cows whichwas grazing near by. "Ain't she a beauty?""She looks pretty well," said Mr. Walton, dubiously, by no meanssure that she would equal his lost cow."She's one of the best I've got. I wouldn't sell ef it wasn't tooblige. I ain't at all partic'lar, but I suppose you've got to heva cow.""What do you ask for her, squire?""She's wuth all of forty dollars," answered the squire, who knewperfectly well that a fair price would be about thirty. But thenhis neighbor must have a cow, and had no money to pay, and so wasat his mercy."That seems high," said Hiram."She's wuth every cent of it; but I ain't nowise partic'lar aboutsellin' her.""Couldn't you say thirty-seven?""I couldn't take a dollar less. I'd rather keep her. Maybe I'd takethirty-eight, cash down."Hiram Walton shook his head."I have no cash," he said. "I must buy on credit.""Wall, then, there's a bargain for you. I'll let you have her forforty dollars, giving you six months to pay it, at reg'lar interest,six per cent. Of course I expect a little bonus for the accommodation.""I hope you'll be easy with me--I'm a poor man, squire.""Of course, neighbor; I'm always easy.""That isn't your reputation," thought Hiram; but he knew that thiswas a thought to which he must not give expression."All I want is a fair price for my time and trouble. We'll saythree dollars extra for the accommodation--three dollars down."Hiram Walton felt that it was a hard bargain the squire was drivingwith him, but there seemed no help for it.He must submit to the imposition, or do without a cow. There wasno one else to whom he could look for help on any terms. As tothe three dollars, his whole available cash amounted to but fourdollars, and it was for three quarters of this sum that the squirecalled. But the sacrifice must be made."Well, Squire Green, if that is your lowest price, I suppose I mustcome to it," he answered, at last."You can't do no better," said the squire, with alacrity."If so be as you've made up your mind, we'll make out the papers.""Very well.""Come back to the house. When do you want to take the cow?""I'll drive her along now, if you are willing.""Why, you see," said the squire, hesitating, while a mean thoughtentered his, mind, "she's been feedin' in my pastur' all themornin', and I calc'late I'm entitled to the next milkin', you'dbetter come 'round to-night, just after milkin', and then you cantake her.""I didn't think he was quite so mean," passed through Hiram Walton'smind, and his lip curved slightly in scorn, but he knew that thisfeeling must be concealed."Just as you say," he answered. "I'll come round tonight, or sendHarry.""How old is Harry now?""About fourteen.""He's got to be quite a sizable lad--ought to earn concid'able.Is he industrious?""Yes, Harry is a good worker--always ready to lend a hand.""That's good. Does he go to school?""Yes, he's been going to school all the term.""Seems to me he's old enough to give up larnin' altogether. Don'the know how to read and write and cipher?""Yes, he's about the best scholar in school.""Then, neighbor Walton, take my advice and don't send him anymore. You need him at home, and he knows enough to get along inthe world.""I want him to learn as much as he can. I'd like to send him toschool till he is sixteen.""He's had as much schoolin' now as ever I had," said the squire,"and I've got along pooty well. I've been seleckman, and schoolcommitty, and filled about every town office, and I never wantedno more schoolin'. My father took me away from school when I wasthirteen.""It wouldn't hurt you if you knew a little more," thought Hiram,who remembered very well the squire's deficiencies when serving onthe town school committee."I believe in learning," he said. "My father used to say, 'Liveand learn.' That's a good motto, to my thinking.""It may be carried too far. When a boy's got to be of the age ofyour boy, he'd ought to be thinking of workin.' His time is toovaluable to spend in the schoolroom.""I can't agree with you, squire. I think no time is better spentthan the time that's spent in learning. I wish I could afford tosend my boy to college.""It would cost a mint of money; and wouldn't pay. Better put himto some good business."That was the way he treated his own son, and for this and otherreasons, as soon as he arrived at man's estate, he left home, whichhad never had any pleasant associations with him. His father wantedto convert him into a money-making machine--a mere drudge, workinghim hard, and denying him, as long as he could, even the commonrecreations of boyhood--for the squire had an idea that the timedevoted in play was foolishly spent, inasmuch as it brought himin no pecuniary return. He was willfully blind to the faults anddefects of his system, and their utter failure in the case of hisown son, and would, if could, have all the boys in town brought upafter severely practical method. But, fortunately for Harry, Mr.Walton had very different notions. He was compelled to keep his sonhome the greater part of the summer, but it was against his desire."No wonder he's a poor man," thought the squire, after his visitorreturned home. "He ain't got no practical idees. Live and learn!that's all nonsense. His boy looks strong and able to work, andit's foolish sendin' him school any longer. That wa'n't my way,and see where I am," he concluded, with complacent remembrance ofbonds and mortgages and money out at interest. "That was a pootygood cow trade," he concluded. "I didn't calc' late for to get more'nthirty-five dollars for the critter; but then neighbor Walton hadto have a cow, and had to pay my price."Now for Hiram Walton's reflections."I'm a poor man," he said to himself, as he walked slowly homeward,"but I wouldn't be as mean as Tom Green for all the money he'sworth. He's made a hard bargain with me, but there was no help forit."