“Got your mind made up?”
“I’d rather sleep on it, dad. Suppose we put it off till to-morrow.”
“If you’re the man to handle the job you can decide now. Puttin’ off never helped matters. A man that makes up his mind right off may be wrong half the time, but he’s right a whole lot more than the fellow who has to have a decision jerked out of him with an ox-team. If you expect to get anywheres in this world, learn to make up your mind swift and follow up with swift action. We’ll finish the deal now before quittin’-time.”
Jim turned and looked at his father. Somehow he felt detached from himself, as if he were sitting at a distance twiddling his thumbs and watching his own wheels go round. He occupied the position of spectator very briefly, however, but popped back inside of himself and took possession again—with a noticeable change. He felt different. He did not feel like Jim Ashe as he had been acquainted with Jim Ashe, but like another individual of markedly different characteristics. This change manifested itself in his reply:
“All right. We’ll decide now. Now!”
“Yes?” said Clothespin Jimmy, his fingers tightening ever so little.
“I take the mill,” said Jim.
“Huh!” his father said.
That was all. He slipped the bonds into his side pocket. From another pocket he drew an envelope holding two long, many-times-folded strips of blue paper. Jim recognized them as railroad tickets.
“You’d better go to Diversity on Friday. This is Tuesday. Your ma and me leave for Californy on Friday mornin’.”