He leaned against the top rail of the fence and looked down at me and laughed.
"Whatever put that in yer head?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know—how do ye be it?" I demanded.
"They's two ways," said he. "One is to begin 'fore you're born and pick out the right father. T'other is to begin after you're born and pick out the right son. You can make yerself whatever you want to be. It's all inside of a boy and it comes out by and by—swords and gold and diamonds, or rags an' dirt an' shovels an' crowbars."
I wondered what I had inside of me.
"I guess I ain't got any sword in me," I said.
"When you've been eating green apples and I wouldn't wonder," he answered as he went on with his work.
"Once I thought I heard a watch tickin' in my throat," I said hopefully.
"I don't mean them things is really in ye, but the power to git 'em is in ye," said Uncle Peabody. "That's what I mean—power. Be a good boy and study yer lessons and never lie, and the power'll come into ye jest as sure as you're alive."
I began to watch myself for symptoms of power.