"Don't he educate me?" asked Len, pointing to Rackett.
"As much as you'll let him," said Mr. George. "But—"
Lennie's face crumpled up with irritation.
"Oh, what for do you want me to be educated?" he cried testily. "I don' want to be like Uncle Blogg. I don' wantter be like Dr. Rackett even." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "'N I don' wantter be like Jack Grant neither. I don' wantta. I don' wantta, I tell y' I don' wantta."
"Do you think they would want to be like you?" asked Mr. George.
Lennie looked from him to Rackett, and then to Jack.
"Jack's not so very diff'rent," he said slowly. And he shook his head. "But can't y' believe me," he cried. "I don' wantta go to England. I don' wantta talk fine and be like them. Can't ye see I don't? I don' wantta. What's the good! What's the mortal use of it, anyhow? Aren't I right as I am?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I wants to work. I wants to milk an' feed, and plough, and reap and lay out irrigation, like Dad. An' I wants to look after Ma an' the kids. An' then I'll get married and be on a place of me own with kids of me own, an' die, like Dad, an' be done for. That's what I wants. It is."
He looked desperately at his mother.