d; now Jimmy was determined
to learn the proper operation of this machine. But finally the jagged
tack-tack--pause--tack-tack got on Jake's nerves.

Jake came in angrily. "You're wasting paper," he snapped. He eyed Jimmy
thoughtfully. "How come with your education you don't know how to type?"

"My father wouldn't let me."

"Seems your father wouldn't let you do anything."

"He said that I couldn't learn until I was old enough to learn properly.
He said I must not get into the habit of using the hunt-and-peck system,
or I'd never get out of it."

"So what are you doing now?"

"My father is dead."

"And anything he said before doesn't count any more?"

"He promised me that he'd start teaching me as soon as my hands were big
enough," said Jimmy soberly. "But he isn't here any more. So I've got to
learn my own way."

Jake reflected. Jimmy was a superior spotter. He was also a potential
danger; the other kids played it as a game and didn't really realize what
they were doing. This one knew precisely what he was doing, knew that it
was wrong, and had the lucidity of speech to explain in full detail. It
was a good idea to keep him content.

"If you'll stop that tap-tapping for tonight," promised Jake, "I'll get
you a book tomorrow. Is it a deal?"

"You will?"

"I will if you'll follow it."

"Sure thing."

"And," said Jake, pushing his advantage, "you'll do it with the door
closed so's I can hear this TV set."

"Yes sir."

Jake kept his word.

On the following afternoon, not only was Jimmy presented with one of the
standard learn-it-yourself books on touch-typing, but Jake also contrived
a sturdy desk out of one old packing case and a miniature chair out of
another. Both articles of home-brewed furniture Jake insisted upon having
painted before he permitted them inside his odd dwelling, and that
delayed Jimmy one more day.

But it was only one more day; and then a new era of experience began for
Jimmy.

It would be nice to report that he went at it with determination,
self-discipline, and system, following instructions to the letter and
emerging a first-rate typist.

Sorry. Jimmy hated every minute of it. He galled at the pages and pages
of _juj juj juj frf frf frf_. He cried with frustration because he could
not perform the simple exercise to perfection. He skipped through the
book so close to complete failure that he hurled it across the room, and
cried in anger because he had not the strength to t