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Updated: May 24, 2025
"I don't s'pose you've heard anything yet from your father?" "No, I 'ain't. I've got to go home." "Where've you been, Jerome?" asked Adoniram Judd. "Up to Uncle Ozias's to get Elmira's shoes." Jerome had the stout little shoes, one in each hand. "I don't s'pose you've formed any idee of what's become of your father," said Simon Basset.
"If I do begin work on the mill to-morrow," said he, "I sha'n't be able to fetch and carry to Dale, nor to do as much work in Uncle Ozias's shop. Do you suppose you can help out some?" "I can, if I'm as well as I be now, J'rome." "Of course, you can earn more than you do now," said Jerome. That was really the errand upon which he had come to the Judds that evening.
Here he felt like a man supporting his mother and sister; at home he was only a boy, held to his task under the thumb of a woman. Then, too, his uncle Ozias's conversation was a kind of pungent stimulant not pleasant to the taste, not even recognizable in all its savors, yet with a growing power of fascination.
It was well that Jerome could not understand the half of his uncle's harangue, and got, indeed, only a general impression of the unjust helplessness of a meek and righteous man in the hands of adverse fate, compared with horned and clawed animals, and Ozias's system of defence did not commend itself to his understanding.
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