od farmer's rule: 'Never sell anything off the
place that can't walk off.'"

"I've heard that before," said Henry, sighing.

"And even then just so much fertility goes with every yoke of steers
or pair of fat hogs. But it is less loss, in proportion, than when the
corn, or oats, or wheat itself is sold."

CHAPTER XXIX. LETTIE BRONSON'S CORN HUSKING

Sister had begun school on the very first day it opened--in September.
She was delighted, for although she had had "lessons" at the
"institution", they had not been like this regular attendance, with
other free and happy children, at a good country school.

Sister was growing not alone in body, but in mind. And the improvement
in her appearance was something marvelous.

"It certainly does astonish me, every time I think o' that youngun
and the way she looked when she come to me from the charity school,"
declared Mother Atterson.

"Who'd want a better lookin' young'un now? She'd be the pride of any
mother's heart, she'd be.

"If there's folks belongin' to her, and they have neglected her all
these years, in my opinion they're lackin' in sense, Hiram."

"They certainly have been lacking in the milk of human kindness,"
admitted the young farmer.

"Huh! That milk's easily soured in many folks," responded Mrs.
Atterson. "But Sister's folks, whoever they be, will be sorry some day."

"You don't suppose she really has any family, do you?" demanded Hiram.

"No father nor mother, I expect. But many a family will get rid of
a young'un too small to be of any use, when they probably have many
children of their own.

"And if there was a little bait of money coming to the child, as that
lawyer told the institution matron, that would be another reason for
losing her in this great world."

"I'm afraid Sister will never find her folks, Mrs. Atterson," said
Hiram, shaking his head.

"Huh! If she don't, it's no loss to her. It's loss to them," declared
the old lady. "And I'd hate to have anybody come and take her away from
us now."

Sister no longer wore her short hair in four "pigtails". She had learned
to dress it neatly like other girls of her age, and although it would
never be like the beautiful blue-black tresses of Lettie Bronson, Hiram
had to admit that the soft brown of Sister's hair, waving so prettily
over her forehead, made the girl's features more than a little
attractive.

She was an entirely different person, too, from the one who had helped
Lettie and