“Why don’t you keep on at school?” I said.
“Aw, what’s the use?” said he. “They don’t learn you nothin’–algebra and English and stuff like that.”
“A little English wouldn’t hurt you at all, young man,” said Stella. “You don’t like to study, do you?”
The boy looked sheepish, but admitted that he didn’t.
“What do you like to do?” I asked. “You don’t like to caddy very well, because you don’t keep your eye on the ball, and you’ve made the little fellow take out the pin on every hole so far.”
The boy flushed at this, and went up to the next pin himself.
“I’d like to work in a garden,” he said, as we were walking to the next tee.
“You want to be a gardener, eh?” said I. “Has anybody ever taught you how to start a hotbed?”
“No, sir.”
“Ever run a wheel hoe?”