Jimmy, his hand thrust into the pockets his mother hadn’t been able to make quite whole, turned down to the little cabin on Fletcher Road called “Mrs. Skinner’s house.” The loss of David’s cap bothered him dreadfully on top of the other matter connected with the circus boy. Jimmy wasn’t able to get him out of his mind. While the cake was rapidly disappearing, he had heard the story of being “starved and beaten,” the boy looking for more, in a way that struck Jimmy harder than the loss of his own treasured part of the feast.
“I can’t help him none,” he declared, with a reckless twitch of his shoulders, “no more’n I could get a new cap for Mis Pepper’s boy.”
He stopped suddenly, “Can’t I help get a cap for David Pepper?”
He took off his own cap and scratched his head. That did no good, and he flung the cap back. He hadn’t a penny in his pocket. He knew that without the trouble of turning the pocket inside out. But—couldn’t he get some work? Where?
It was a pretty small prospect before him, as all Badgertown people had a poor opinion of his desire or ability to work.
“What’s th’ use?” he said, kicking off some small stones in the rough road. Then he picked up one and shied it at a bird. He was astonished to find that he was relieved after all that he hadn’t hit it, and he kicked and scuffed more stones. That gave him an idea.
Away back, almost a year before, a farmer in the north end of the township had asked him to “pick rocks” in a barren field to be cleared for cultivation. Jimmy had said “Not much!”—and turned off with a laugh. Suppose the farmer wanted him now! It wasn’t a pretty job, Jimmy knew, breaking one’s back, and hauling and piling the stones. But—well, he could ask; it wouldn’t do any harm to do that.
Jimmy turned in at the door. Mrs. Skinner lifted a hot red face from the steaming wash-tub. All hours of the day were her work-times.
“Well,” she beamed in great and unusual contentment, resting her hands on the tub rim, “and was the circus fine?”
“Prime,” said Jimmy, “I’m coming back,” slamming the door.