?"

"Can't say your nut shows any cracks from here," says I. "Who's been
tellin' you it did?"

"Why, all those blasted doctors," says he. "They won't even let me go out
alone. But say," here he beckons me up and whispers mysterious, "I'll fix
'em yet! You just wait till I get my animals trained. You wait!" Then he
claps his hands and hollers, "Atkins! Set 'em going!"

Atkins, he stops scrabblin' after the cards and starts around the room.
And say, would you believe it, on all the tables and mantelpieces was a
lot of those toy animals, such as they sell durin' the holidays. There
was lions and tigers and elephants, little and big, and every last one of
'em has its head balanced so it'll move up and down when you touch it.
Atkins' job was to go from one to the other and set 'em bobbin'. Them on
the mantels wa'n't more'n a few inches long; but on the floor, hid behind
chairs, was some that was life size. One was a tiger, made out of a real
skin, and when his head goes his jaws open and shut, and his tail lashes
from side to side, as natural as life. Say, it was weird to watch that
collection, all noddin' away together--almost gave you the willies!

"Are they all going?" says Bobby.

"Yes, sir," says Atkins, standin' attention.

"What do you think, eh?" says Bobbie, half shuttin' his pop eyes and
starin' at me, real foxy.

"Great scheme!" says I. "Didn't know you had a private zoo up here. But
say, I brought along someone that wants to have a little chin with you."

With that I hauls the Rev. Sam to the front and gives him the nudge to
fire away. And say, he's all primed! He begins by givin' Bobbie a word
picture of the Rankin glass works at night, when the helpers are carryin'
the trays from the hot room, where the blowers work three-hour shifts,
with the mercury at one hundred and twenty, to the coolin' room, where
it's like a cellar. He tells him how many helpers there are, how many
hours they work a day, and what they get for it. It didn't make me yearn
for a job.

"And here," says the Rev. Mr. Hooker, pullin' the Dummy up by the sleeve,
"is what happens. This boy went to work in your glass factory when he was
thirteen. He was red cheeked, clear eyed, then, and he had a normal
brain. He held his job six years. Then he was discharged. Why? Because he
wasn't of any more use. He was all in, the juice sapped out of him, as
dry as a last year's cornhusk. Look at him! Any doubt about his being
used up? And what happ