Grand Change Read Online Free PDF Page B

Burnt up a cake this afternoon, covered it up with an inch of frosting—all the better. But she can’t be too bad off. Puts up with me and the Cape Britoners we got hired for the digging.”
    John Cobly took an open pack of tobacco from the bib of his overalls, slid out the paper pack stuck in the cellophane wrapping, leafed out a paper, pinched tobacco from the pack, spread it on the paper trough and began twisting a cigarette. He peered up at me, his fingers and thumbs working, his eyes glinting from the shadow of his cap peak.
    â€œInto some heavy reading are you, Jake?”
    â€œHeavy enough for me,” I said. Another burst of laughter came from the radio. John Cobly smirked at a punchline, then ran his tongue across the paper edge and twisted up the roll.
    The Old Man finally lost his game. He packed up the cards and put them in his corner shelf at the head of the couch by the flue box. Then he swiped his makings from the window ledge, slumped down sideways across the couch and began rolling a cigarette.
    â€œTurn the radio off, John,” The Old Man said.
    â€œSure you don’t want to finish it, Harv?” John said. “Sometimes you can get a laugh out of them.”
    â€œSometimes you can and sometimes you can’t; hear them too much and it all starts to sound the same.”
    John Cobly turned off the radio and sat with his cigarette dangling unlit in his mouth, a match in his fist, his thumb on the head, waiting for The Old Man to finish. Then the snap of the match flaring into light broke into the quiet from the absence of radio sounds. John reached to light The Old Man’s cigarette, lit his own, moved to the stove, poked the spent match through a draft hole and went back to the armchair.
    â€œI suppose you mind when the radios first came, Harv?” John Cobly said.
    â€œYeah, Uncle Joe had one in town, earphones and a battery big enough to fill a wheelbarrow.”
    â€œTelevision will be the next thing, Harv.”
    The Boss settled back, blowing out a belch of smoke. “Think there’s much to them?”
    â€œKind of like watching a picture show in a box. Fred James got one. Seen it one evening when I was settling up. Lot of snow. I wasn’t too crazy about it. They say they’re catching on, though.”
    â€œMore tomfoolery than anything else, probably,” The Old Man said. There was a pause. A sudden gust of wind creaked the old house.
    â€œGot your crop in, Harv?”
    â€œYeah, got it in; been a pretty good fall. All I got don’t amount to much anyhow.”
    â€œSometimes I think we’d all be better off keeping it small like you, Harv. Potatoes are such a gamble.”
    â€œHow are you getting along?”
    â€œNot bad. The Cape Britoners I got had a bit of a set-to the other night—got into the hooch, hammered each other around the yard for a while. Had to send a couple home. But that’s the way she goes. We’re getting there. Sometimes you wonder if you should be at something else, but it’s a living I guess.” John Cobly leaned back in the armchair, shot his legs straight out and folded his arms across his belly. His cigarette dangled askew from his lips. “Thought I’d like to be a doctor when I was a gaffer. But by the time I learned to even read and write, with all the time off for cropping and whatnot, I had trouble fitting into the seats. I mind watching the others going to school and me just getting in with a load of mud.”
    â€œYou would have made a good doctor, John,” Nanny said. “Not many people can doctor a sick animal any better than you.”
    â€œYeah, kind of in me I guess. Never know what a fellow might have turned out to be given half a chance.”
    The Old Man flicked ash from his cigarette into his pant cuff.
    â€œWell, every day will be Sunday when they get the road fixed up.” The glint in John’s eyes brightened and a sardonic grin