Well, all the lammings Hank laid on never done me any good. It seemed like I was jest natcherally cut out to have no success in life, and no amount of whaling could change it, though Hank, he was faithful. Before I was twelve years old the hull town had seen it, and they wasn't nothing else expected of me except not to be any good.
That had its handy sides to it, too. They was lots of kids there that had to go to school, but Hank, he never would of let me done that if I had ast him, and I never asted. And they was lots of kids considerably bothered all the time with their parents and relations. They made 'em go to Sunday School, and wash up reg'lar all over on Saturday nights, and put on shoes and stockings part of the time, even in the summer, and some of 'em had to ast to go in swimming, and the hull thing was a continuous trouble and privation to 'em.
But they wasn't nothing perdicted of me, and Idone like it was perdicted. Everybody 'lowed from the start that Hank would of made trash out'n me, even if I hadn't showed all the signs of being trash anyhow. And if they was devilment anywhere about that town they all says, "Danny, he done it." And like as not I has. So I gets to be what you might call an outcast. All the kids whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells 'em not to run with me no more. Which they done it all the more fur that reason, on the sly, and it makes me more important with them.
But when I gets a little bigger, all that makes me feel kind o' bad sometimes. It ain't so handy then. Fur folks gets to saying, when I would come around:
"Danny, what do YOU want?"
And if I says, "Nothing," they would say:
"Well, then, you get out o' here!"
Which they needn't of been suspicioning nothing like they pertended they did, fur I never stole nothing more'n worter millions and mush millions and such truck, and mebby now and then a chicken us kids use to roast in the woods on Sundays, and jest as like as not it was one of Hank's hens then, which I figgered I'd earnt it.
Fur Hank, he had streaks when he'd work me considerable hard. He never give me any money fur it. He loafed a lot too, and when he'd loaf I'd loaf. But I did pick up right smart of handiness with tools around that there shop of his'n, and if he'd ever of used me right I might of turned into a purty fair blacksmith. But it wasn't no use trying to work fur Hank. When I was about fifteen, times is right bad around the house fur a spell, and Elmira is working purty hard, and I thinks to myself:
"Well, these folks has kind o' brung you up, and you ain't never done more'n Hank made you do. Mebby you orter stick to work a little more when they's a job in the shop, even if Hank don't."Which I tried it fur about two or three years, doing as much work around the shop as Hank done and mebby more. But it wasn't no use. One day when I'm about eighteen, I seen awful plain I'll have to light out from there. They was a circus come to town that day. I says to Hank:
"Hank, they is a circus this afternoon and agin to-night.""So I has hearn," says Hank.
"Are you going to it?" says I.
"I mout," says Hank, "and then agin I moutn't.
I don't see as it's no consarns of yourn, nohow."I knowed he was going, though. Hank, he never missed a circus.
"Well," I says, "they wasn't no harm to ast, was they?""Well, you've asted, ain't you?" says Hank.
"Well, then," says I, "I'd like to go to that there circus myself.""They ain't no use in me saying fur you not to go," says Hank, "fur you would go anyhow. You always does go off when you is needed.""But I ain't got no money," I says, "and I was going to ast you could you spare me half a dollar?""Great Jehosephat!" says Hank, "but ain't you getting stuck up! What's the matter of you crawling in under the tent like you always done?
First thing I know you'll be wanting a pair of these here yaller shoes and a stove-pipe hat.""No," says I, "I ain't no dude, Hank, and you know it. But they is always things about a circus to spend money on besides jest the circus herself.
They is the side show, fur instance, and they is the grand concert afterward. I calkelated I'd take 'em all in this year--the hull dern thing, jest fur oncet."Hank, he looks at me like I'd asted fur a house 'n' lot, or a million dollars, or something like that. But he don't say nothing. He jest snorts.
"Hank," I says, "I been doing right smart work around the shop fur two, three years now. If you wasn't loafing so much you'd a noticed it more.
And I ain't never ast fur a cent of pay fur it, nor--""You ain't wuth no pay," says Hank. "You ain't wuth nothing but to eat vittles and wear out clothes.""Well," I says, "I figger I earn my vittles and a good 'eal more. And as fur as clothes goes, I never had none but what Elmira made out'n yourn.""Who brung you up?" asts Hank.
"You done it," says I, "and by your own say-so you done a dern poor job at it.""You go to that there circus," says Hank, a-flaring up, "and I'll lambaste you up to a inch of your life.
So fur as handing out money fur you to sling it to the dogs, I ain't no bank, and if I was I ain't no ijut. But you jest let me hear of you even going nigh that circus lot and all the lammings you has ever got, rolled into one, won't be a measly little sarcumstance to what you WILL get. They ain't no leather-faced young upstart with weepin'-willow hail going to throw up to me how I brung him up.
That's gratitood fur you, that is!" says Hank. "If it hadn't of been fur me giving you a home when Ifound you first, where would you of been now?""Well," I says, "I might of been a good 'eal better off. If you hadn't of took me in the Alexan-derses would of, and then I wouldn't of been kep' out of school and growed up a ignoramus like you is.""I never had no trouble keeping you away from school, I notice," says Hank, with a snort. "This is the first I ever hearn of you wanting to go there."Which was true in one way, and a lie in another.
I hadn't never wanted to go till lately, but he'd of lammed me if I had of wanted to. He always said he would. And now I was too big and knowed it.
