Then I came here and set up as a farmer. I got along pretty well, at
first; at any rate, I made a living for my family; but when Mr.
Fairfield became agent, he raised my rent, and, in other ways, made it
hard for me. Now I have a hard struggle."
"I thought you were not always a farmer," said Frank.
"What made you think so?"
"You don't talk like a farmer. You have the appearance of a man who has
lived in cities."
"Seems to me you are a close observer, for a boy of your years," said
Mr. Hamlin, shrewdly.
Frank smiled.
"I should be glad if your compliment were deserved," he answered. "It's
a pity you were not agent, instead of Mr. Fairfield," suggested Frank,
pointedly.
"I wish I were," answered Hamlin. "I believe I should make a good one,
though I might not turn over as much money to my employer. I should,
first of all, lower the rents and make it as easy for the tenants as I
could in justice to my New York principal."
"Do you know how much Mr. Fairfield receives--how large a salary, I
mean?"
"I know what Mr. Sampson got--twelve hundred dollars a year; but Mr.
Fairfield lives at the rate of more than twice that sum, if I can judge
from appearances.
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