Well, sometimes he does seem like a hero to me, he's so strong and clever and kind. At school people are always coming to him with their disputes, and out of school, too. Even the Indians respect his knowledge. And with it all he can see a joke as soon as anybody, and isn't a bit puffed up. And then I like him, because even though he's quiet and it takes a long time for him to get angry, when he does get angry it's on the right side. I think some day he'll be a great lawyer. Come, Amy, what do you think he'll be?
AMY
(mischievously).
Well, as you think he knows so much—almost as much as Mr. Andrew Crawford—I think perhaps he'll be a teacher.
TOM.
What do you think he'll be, Polly?
POLLY
(absorbed in examining corn-popper, tongs, etc.).
I don't know. Oh, see! He's mended the tongs. I saw him working at it the other day. (Facing about, laughing.) I'll tell you what I think he'll be—he'll be a mender! (To Amy.) Look out, Amy, that's Abe's precious snow-shovel. Dear knows why he has it out this early.
AMY.
Because paper is expensive, goosey. By the light of some pine cones he can figure on this, and then scrape it off again.
TOM
(admiringly).