208 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



folk have never grown used to building good 

 fences nor to keeping them up. When the 

 "natives" lived on the farms around us, their 

 cattle and pigs and mules were always wander- 

 ing in and tasting our growing crops. That's 

 irritating; no farmer likes it. We used to get 

 quite angry about it sometimes, when it ap- 

 peared that arguments and warnings did no 

 good. I suppose that anger was the towns- 

 man's habit persisting. You know you'd fuss 

 with a man if he lived on the next town lot to 

 yours and if his cow would come over and muss 

 up your lawn or trample your lettuce patch. 

 Without half trying you could work yourself 

 up to heated words and strained relations. 

 That's because you'd be able to get to him 

 right away before your temper would have 

 time to simmer down. But it would be differ- 

 ent if he lived half a mile away across the fields 

 and woods. Even if you set off at white heat 

 to see him about it, and rehearsed to yourself 

 all the way what you'd say to him, by the time 

 you got there you'd be cooled off in spite of 

 yourself, and your quarrel would be resolved 

 into nothing fiercer than a friendly glass of 

 cold buttermilk and a bit of friendly chat about 

 the look of the crops, with maybe a few words 



