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`MI DEER JO i OPE U R gRWrTE WELL i OpE i SHAL soN B HhBELL 42 TEEDGE U JO AN 7HEN wE SHORL a sO OLODD hN wEN i M PRENOTD 2 U JO wOT LhRX flNBLEvEMErNFxNPrP.'
There was no indispensable necessity for my communicating with Joe by letter, inasmuch as he sat beside me and we were alone. But, I delivered this written communication (slate and all) with my own hand, and Joe received it as a miracle of erudition.
`I say, Pip, old chap!' cried Joe, opening his blue eyes wide, `what a scholar you are! An't you ?'
`I should like to be,' said I, glancing at the slate as he held it: with a misgiving that the writing was rather hilly.
`Why, here's a J,' said Joe, `and a O equal to anythink! Here's a J and a O, Pip, and a J-O, Joe.'
I had never heard Joe read aloud to any greater extent than this monosyllable, and I had observed at church last Sunday when I accidentally held our Prayer-Book upside down, that it seemed to suit his convenience quite as well as if it had been all right. Wishing to embrace the present occasion of finding out whether in teaching Joe, I should have to begin quite at the beginning, I said, `Ah! But read the rest, Jo.'
`The rest, eh, Pip ? ' said Joe, looking at it with a slowly searching eye, `One, two, three. Why, here's three Js, and three Os, and three J-O, Joes in it, Pip!'
I leaned over Joe, and, with the aid of my forefinger, read him the whole letter.
`Astonishing! ' said Joe, when I had finished. `You AA RE a scholar.'
`How do you spell Gargery, Joe?' I asked him, with a modest patronage.
`I don't spell it at all,' said Joe.
`But supposing you did?'
`It can't be supposed,' said Joe. `Tho' I'm oncommon fond of reading, too.'
`Are you, Joe?'
`On-common. Give me,' said Joe, `a good book, or a good newspaper, and sit me down afore a good fire, and I ask no better. Lord!' he continued, after rubbing his knees a little, `when you do come to a J and a O, and says you, ``Here, at last, is a J-O, Joe,'' how interesting reading is!'
"Sefelt, what about you? There's nothing wrong with you but you have fits. Hell, I had an uncle who threw conniptions twice as bad as yours and saw visions from the Devil to boot, but he didn't lock himself in the nuthouse. You could get along outside if you had the guts----"
"Sure!" It's Billy, turned from the screen, his face boiling tears. "Sure!" he screams again. "If we had the g-guts! I could go outside to-today, if I had the guts. My m-m-mother is a good friend of M-Miss Ratched, and I could get an AMA signed this afternoon, if I had the g-guts!"
He jerks his shirt up from the bench and tries to pull it on, but he's shaking too hard. Finally he slings it from him and turns back to McMurphy.
"You think I wuh-wuh-wuh-want to stay in here? You think I wouldn't like a con-con-convertible and a guh-guh-girl friend? But did you ever have p-p-p-people l-l-laughing at you? No, because you're so b-big and so tough! Well, I'm not big and tough. Neither is Harding. Neither is Sefelt. Oh--oh, you--you t-talk like we stayed in here because we liked it! Oh--it's n-no use..."
The Shodor
Education Foundation, Inc.