CHAPTER 8THREE BIRDS WITH ONE JOLT
Two things were of moment—the cooking of Tom Willow and the assiduity of Jimmy as a waiter.
Said Mr. Samuel Raeburn, “You’ve done something to Jimmy, Litton. There’s a boy that can’t open more than one eye at a time, when he’s home. If he’s got to chop some kindling, he develops the blind staggers. If he has to carry in some wood, he has rheumatism. If it’s milking the cow, his hands are laid up for weeks afterwards.”
“Why,” said Tom Willow, “this is the way of it: a kid at home don’t feel that he gets any glory out of bein’ good. What’s the use? The rest of his family is swore in to love him, like witnesses is swore in at a trial. Why be useful to folks like that? There ain’t any use.—Just hand me a mite of a slice of that fried sweet potato, Jimmy, w
