“Virginia schools is not bad,” said Simple. “One thing about his mama, Mattie Mae, was she probably didn’t want F. D. in the house much nohow, so she let him stay in school all day long every day. She didn’t care how much he studied or played, as long as he were away from home, so she could play in her way. F. D. had sense enough to stay in school, and still have himself a little job shining shoes in a hotel, else picking or packing tobacco, making his own money, till he graduated. Which is why he left home, one reason. That big old no-good stepfather of his would whip that boy if he didn’t give him half his shine money for board and keep. He also made him be home in bed by ten o’clock, being some kind of religious frantic.”

“Fanatic.”

“Um-hum! Anyhow, he grabs F. D. and whips him once too often, and F. D. starts thinking about running away. Upshot, I got him on my hands.”

“I believe you’ve handled the situation pretty well, old boy. But you are lucky in that he is such a decent boy, not a juvenile delinquent. Suppose your cousin were one of these tough young jitterbugs you read about, running around in gangs, smoking marijuana, always getting into trouble. What would you have done with him then?”

“Done with him?” said Simple. “Nothing. I’d just call in my landlady and say, ‘You let him in here, madam, so you get him out.’ I bet that boy would have left there flying. My heavy-hipped old landlady can put out bigger mens than I am. I would have no trouble were F. D. inclined to disturbing the peace. Neither would I have to call the law. Just my landlady, that’s all.”

“But suppose you had to solve the problem of getting him out yourself if he had turned out to be rowdy? How would you get him out?”

“Knock him out,” said Simple.

“So force would be your only solution for the problems of juvenile delinquency?”

“I would not be trying to solve no problem but my own,” said Simple.

Must Have a Seal

Must Have a Seal

“CHICKEN tender is a mother’s love, stewed down with dumplings—that is what we had for dinner Sunday.”

“At Joyce’s?”

“Sure, at Joyce’s. That woman can really mess with pots and pans. Cornbread that melted right out of sight. I didn’t leave a piece on the plate. Oh, man, I can’t describe that dinner!”

“If Joyce cooks like that now, and you are not even married, what kind of meals will you eat when you set up housekeeping and have your own kitchen?”