“All boys?”
“All boys.”
“And how do you stand?” said my mother.
“I’m the best boy in that school,” I answered.
“Well,” said my mother, with a return of her old fire, “I’d like to know what the other boys are like.”
Now, one point in this story is the fact that my mother’s mind went back to my school days, and remembered my little youthful self-prejudice when she’d forgotten everything else about me.
The other point is the moral. There’s one there that you will find if you search for it.
Now, here’s something else I remember. It’s about the first time I ever stole a watermelon. “Stole” is a strong word. Stole? Stole? No, I don’t mean that. It was the first time I ever withdrew a watermelon. It was the first time I ever extracted a watermelon. That is exactly the word I want—“extracted.” It is definite. It is precise. It perfectly conveys my idea. Its use in dentistry connotes the delicate shade of meaning I am looking for. You know we never extract our own teeth.
And it was not my watermelon that I extracted. I extracted that watermelon from a farmer’s wagon while he was inside negotiating with another customer. I carried that watermelon to one of the secluded recesses of the lumber-yard, and there I broke it open.
It was a green watermelon.