I felt that here it wuz a good place to gin a little hint. Sez I, “Speakin’ of safeguards, Martin, have you ever put them fenders on that line of cars of yourn that they wanted you to?”
“No!” sez he, speakin’ up pretty sharp.
Sez I, “Don’t you feel that you ort to, for the sake of children whose Mas and Pas love them jest as well as you do Adrian?”
But he waived off that idee, sayin’, as usual, that it wuzn’t expected that he wuz a-goin to spend his life and fortune for the sake of the children of the masses, who, two thirds on ’em, wuz better off dead than alive.
I hate sech talk.
But he went on to prove by statisticks how they grew up to be criminals, and paupers, and Coxeyites, and the world wuz well rid on ’em if they died in childhood.
I hate sech talk. He see my feelin’s, and he went on jest as if nothin’ had been sed, and repeated that Adrian wuz perfectly safe, and that his futer wuz assured.
“Wall,” sez I, “I hope so, for he is a dretful good little boy, and smart, and I hope he will make a useful man.”
“There is no other child in the world like him,” sez Martin, “and he will have a great and successful future. I shall attend to that.”
“Wall,” I sez agin, “I hope so,” and I truly did. But I felt dubersome about thinkin’ that Martin had it all in his own hands—this is sech a queer world, and so kinder surprisin’ and changeable.