He blew out the dying flame on the stick and dropped the charred wood thoughtfully to the floor.
"Naw, I ain't so smart," he admitted, "or I'd figure a way to make one of them work the garden for us. Maybe someday—but this kind won't do nothin' but fix that goddam road, an' what good's that to anybody?"
His woman moved the burning lamp carefully to the center of the table.
"Anyway, it's gonna be better'n last winter," she said. "We'll have lights now."