“Yes.”
“Understood, did you?”
“Yes—sir.”
“Well?”
Albert was clutching at straws. “I—I don't know how to keep books,” he faltered.
“I didn't suppose you did. Don't imagine they teach anything as practical as bookkeepin' up at that school of yours. But you can larn, can't you?”
“I—I guess so.”
“I guess so, too. Good Lord, I HOPE so! Humph! You don't seem to be jumpin' for joy over the prospect. There's a half dozen smart young fellers here in South Harniss that would, I tell you that.”
Albert devoutly wished they had jumped—and landed—before his arrival. His grandfather's tone grew more brusque.
“Don't you want to work?” he demanded.