He found it hard to enjoy playing with his contemporaries, and Jake's
explanation about dangerous times warned Jimmy against joining Moe and
his little crew of thieves. Jimmy would have enjoyed helping in the
stripping yard, but he had not the heft for it. They gave him little
messy jobs to do that grimed his hands and made Jake's stern rule of
cleanliness hard to achieve. Jimmy found it easier to avoid such jobs
than to scrub his skin raw.

One activity he found to his ability was the cooking business.

Jake was a stew-man, a soup-man, a slum-gullion man. The fellows who
roamed in and out of Jake's Place dipped their plate of slum from the
pot and their chunk of bread from the loaf and talked all through this
never-started and never-ended lunch. With the delicacy of his "inside"
life, Jake knew the value of herbs and spices and he was a hard
taskmaster. But inevitably, Jimmy learned the routine of brewing a bucket
of slum that suited Jake's taste, after which Jimmy was now and then
permitted to take on the more demanding job of cooking the steaks and
chops that made their final evening meal.

Jimmy applied himself well, for the knowledge was going to be handy. More
important, it kept him from the jobs that grimed his hands.

He sought other pursuits, but Jake had never had a resident spotter
before and the play-facilities provided were few. Jimmy took to
reading--necessarily, the books that Jake read, that is, approximately
equal parts of science fiction and girlie-girlie books. The science
fiction he enjoyed; but he was not able to understand why he wasn't
interested in the girlie books. So Jimmy read. Jake even went out of his
way to find more science fiction for the lad.