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Page 22
I guess being married ain't what it's cracked up to be. Dr. Anglin and
his wife used to fight. I've seen them. And once I heard her call him a
feeb. Now nobody has a right to call anybody a feeb that ain't. Dr.
Anglin got awful mad when she called him that. But he didn't last long.
Politics drove him out, and Doctor Mandeville came. He didn't have a
wife. I heard him talking one time with the engineer. The engineer and
his wife fought like cats and dogs, and that day Doctor Mandeville told
him he was damn glad he wasn't tied to no petticoats. A petticoat is a
skirt. I knew what he meant, if I was a feeb. But I never let on. You
hear lots when you don't let on.
I've seen a lot in my time. Once I was adopted, and went away on the
railroad over forty miles to live with a man named Peter Bopp and his
wife. They had a ranch. Doctor Anglin said I was strong and bright, and
I said I was, too. That was because I wanted to be adopted. And Peter
Bopp said he'd give me a good home, and the lawyers fixed up the papers.
But I soon made up my mind that a ranch was no place for me. Mrs. Bopp
was scared to death of me and wouldn't let me sleep in the house. They
fixed up the woodshed and made me sleep there. I had to get up at four
o'clock and feed the horses, and milk cows, and carry the milk to the
neighbours. They called it chores, but it kept me going all day. I
chopped wood, and cleaned chicken houses, and weeded vegetables, and
did most everything on the place. I never had any fun. I hadn't no time.
Let me tell you one thing. I'd sooner feed mush and milk to feebs than
milk cows with the frost on the ground. Mrs. Bopp was scared to let me
play with her children. And I was scared, too. They used to make faces
at me when nobody was looking, and call me "Looney." Everybody called me
Looney Tom. And the other boys in the neighbourhood threw rocks at me.
You never see anything like that in the Home here. The feebs are better
behaved.
Mrs. Bopp used to pinch me and pull my hair when she thought I was too
slow, and I only made foolish noises and went slower. She said I'd be
the death of her some day. I left the boards off the old well in the
pasture, and the pretty new calf fell in and got drowned. Then Peter
Bopp said he was going to give me a licking. He did, too. He took a
strap halter and went at me. It was awful. I'd never had a licking in my
life. They don't do such things in the Home, which is why I say the
Home is the place for me.
I know the law, and I knew he had no right to lick me with a strap
halter. That was being cruel, and the guardianship papers said he
mustn't be cruel. I didn't say anything. I just waited, which shows you
what kind of a feeb I am. I waited a long time, and got slower, and made
more foolish noises; but he wouldn't, send me back to the Home, which
was what I wanted. But one day, it was the first of the month, Mrs.
Brown gave me three dollars, which was for her milk bill with Peter
Bopp. That was in the morning. When I brought the milk in the evening I
was to bring back the receipt. But I didn't. I just walked down to the
station, bought a ticket like any one, and rode on the train back to the
Home. That's the kind of a feeb I am.
Doctor Anglin was gone then, and Doctor Mandeville had his place. I
walked right into his office. He didn't know me. "Hello," he said, "this
ain't visiting day." "I ain't a visitor," I said. "I'm Tom. I belong
here." Then he whistled and showed he was surprised. I told him all
about it, and showed him the marks of the strap halter, and he got
madder and madder all the time and said he'd attend to Mr. Peter Bopp's
case.
And mebbe you think some of them little droolers weren't glad to see me.
I walked right into the ward. There was a new nurse feeding little
Albert. "Hold on," I said. "That ain't the way. Don't you see how he's
twisting that left eye? Let me show you." Mebbe she thought I was a new
doctor, for she just gave me the spoon, and I guess I filled little
Albert up with the most comfortable meal he'd had since I went away.
Droolers ain't bad when you understand them. I heard Miss Jones tell
Miss Kelsey once that I had an amazing gift in handling droolers.
Some day, mebbe, I'm going to talk with Doctor Dalrymple and get him to
give me a declaration that I ain't a feeb. Then I'll get him to make me
a real assistant in the drooling ward, with forty dollars a month and my
board. And then I'll marry Miss Jones and live right on here. And if
she won't have me, I'll marry Miss Kelsey or some other nurse. There's
lots of them that want to get married. And I won't care if my wife gets
mad and calls me a feeb. What's the good? And I guess when one's learned
to put up with droolers a wife won't be much worse.
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