“You do, too, Dewey!”

“Aw, wha’d I know? I never had enough schooling. Wished I had.”

“Who’s doings was it? You wouldn’t stay. Wouldn’t go no more than sixth reader and quit. Nothing wouldn’t get you to go.”

He agreed gloomily. “I know it. I don’t know what nothing is. Uh — Arcadia — or — now — vitality or nothing.”

“Oh, that comes easy,” she encouraged him, “when you begin once.”

He reached for her hand gratefully. “You’re a swell cook, Ma.” He had a sudden burst of generosity, of tenderness. “Soon’s the bus is fixed I’ll take you joy-riding over to the lake.”