here in the summer, don't you? Then the season is short and sometimes we can't make a crop. The frost catches the corn in the field, and you have your trouble for your pains. Potatoes are the only thing we can count on, except grass, and when everybody raises potatoes, you know where the price goes."
"Oh, but now, Mr. Camp," said Mrs. Makely, leaning over towards him, and speaking in a cosy and coaxing tone, as if he must not really keep the truth from an old friend like her, "isn't it a good deal because the farmers' daughters want pianos, and the farmers' sons want buggies? I heard Professor Lumen saying, the other day, that if the farmers were willing to work, as they used to work, they could still get a good living off their farms, and that they gave up their places because they were too lazy, in many cases, to farm them properly."
"He'd better not let me hear him saying that," said the young fellow, while a hot flush passed over his face. He added, bitterly, "If he wants to see how easy it is to make a living up here, he can take this place and try, for a year or two; he can get it cheap. But I guess he wouldn't want it the year round; he'd only want it a few months in the sum-
