“Well, a little. I never went to no college,” said Jake, with a grin.
“You probably know enough of writing to identify my signature. Do you see this?” and he took from his pocket a paper to which his name was attached.
“Yes.”
“Can you read the name?”
Jake screwed up his face and pored over the signature.
“B-r-a-d—Brad—l-e-y, Bradley.”
“Yes, you are right so far. Now what is the other name?”
“W-e-n-t, went—w-o-r-t-h. What’s that?”
“Wentworth. My name is Bradley Wentworth.”