20 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



the face of things. Neither of us was even 

 distantly related to a farmer, except by mar- 

 riage. That part of it didn't strike me as 

 hopeless, though. We were used to keeping a 

 cow and a few hens ; our town-lot garden had 

 always been the envy of the neighbors ; for the 

 last five years I'd been tending an acre of 

 small fruits with uncommon success. We had 

 the knack of making things grow and thrive. 

 As the Frenchman says, we had "the smell for 

 the soil." Besides, for years upon years we 

 had been tireless readers of the literature of 

 modern farming; we knew a lot of the theory 

 of it. No, that part didn't appear hopeless, 

 not by a long shot. 



"Anyway," I said, "we can learn. That's 

 not worrying me now. The point is to find the 

 farm. We'll start so soon as you want to pack 

 your suitcase." 



Do you believe that the great gods ever give 

 us mortals a "hunch"? Maybe we might as 

 well believe it. If we don't, then we have to 

 believe in luck, which isn't a speck more scien- 

 tific. 



Something or other, by whatever name you 

 call it, led us straight to our dream-farm. I 

 bought railway tickets to Fayetteville, Arkan- 



