correspondence schools. Well, they're a great bunch. They say: 'Write
us a lot of letters and ask us your questions. Before you're through
you'll know something you want to know.' See?"

"I see."

"I didn't have anything special I wanted to learn except how to use
myself for company when I got tired of solitaire. So I sat down and
wrote to this here correspondence school and says: 'I want to do
something interesting. How d'you figure that I had better begin?' And
what d'you think they answered back?"

"I dunno," said Ronicky, his interest steadily increasing.

"Well, sir, the first thing they wrote back was: 'We have your letter
and think that in the first place you had better learn how to write.'
That was a queer answer, wasn't it?"

"It sure was." Ronicky swallowed a smile.

"Every time I looked at that letter it sure made me plumb mad. And I
looked at it a hundred times a day and come near tearing it up every
time. But I didn't," continued Bill.

"Why not?"

"Because it was a woman that wrote it. I told by the hand, after a
while!"

"A woman? Go on, Bill. This story sure sounds different from most."