had pencil and paper this time with which to continue his calculations, and
he calculated painfully and amazingly.

"What comes after millions?" he asked at noon, when Will came home from
school. "An' how d'ye work 'em?"

That afternoon finished his task. Each day, but without paper and pencil,
he returned to the stoop. He was greatly absorbed in the one tree that
grew across the street. He studied it for hours at a time, and was
unusually interested when the wind swayed its branches and fluttered its
leaves. Throughout the week he seemed lost in a great communion with
himself. On Sunday, sitting on the stoop, he laughed aloud, several times,
to the perturbation of his mother, who had not heard him laugh for years.

Next morning, in the early darkness, she came to his bed to rouse him. He
had had his fill of sleep all the week, and awoke easily. He made no
struggle, nor did he attempt to hold on to the bedding when she stripped it
from him. He lay quietly, and spoke quietly.

"It ain't no use, ma."

"You'll be late," she said, under the impression that he was still stupid
with sleep.

"I'm awake, ma, an' I tell you it ain't no use. You might as well lemme
alone. I ain't goin' to git up."

"But you'll lose your job!" she cried.

"I ain't goin' to git up," he repeated in a strange, passionless voice.