Do you know what a micro is？ It’s the kind with thelittle heads no bigger than your fist. They’re usuallydroolers， and they live a long time. The hydros don’tdrool. They have the big heads， and they’re smarter. Butthey never grow up. They always die. I never look at onewithout thinking he’s going to die. Sometimes， whenI’m feeling lazy， or the nurse is mad at me， I wish I was adrooler with nothing to do and somebody to feed me. ButI guess I’d sooner talk and be what I am.
Only yesterday Doctor Dalrymple said to me， “Tom，”
he said， “I just don’t know what I’d do without you.”
And he ought to know， seeing as he’s had the bossing of athousand feebs for going on two years. Dr. Whatcomb wasbefore him. They get appointed， you know. It’s politics. I’veseen a whole lot of doctors here in my time. I was herebefore any of them. I’ve been in this institution twentyfiveyears. No， I’ve got no complaints. The institutioncouldn’t be run better.
It’s a snap to be a high-grade feeb. Just look at DoctorDalrymple. He has troubles. He holds his job by politics.
You bet we high-graders talk politics. We know all aboutit， and it’s bad. An institution like this oughtn’t to be runon politics. Look at Doctor Dalrymple. He’s been heretwo years and learned a lot. Then politics will come alongand throw him out and send a new doctor who don’t knowanything about feebs.
I’ve been acquainted with just thousands of nurses in mytime. Some of them are nice. But they come and go. Mostof the women get married. Sometimes I think I’d like toget married. I spoke to Dr. Whatcomb about it once， buthe told me he was very sorry， because feebs ain’t allowedto get married. I’ve been in love. She was a nurse. I won’ttell you her name. She had blue eyes， and yellow hair， anda kind voice， and she liked me. She told me so. And shealways told me to be a good boy. And I was， too， untilafterward， and then I ran away. You see， she went off andgot married， and she didn’t tell me about it.
I guess being married ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.
Dr. Anglin and his wife used to fight. I’ve seen them. Andonce I heard her call him a feeb. Now nobody has a rightto call anybody a feeb that ain’t. Dr. Anglin got awfulmad when she called him that. But he didn’t last long.
Politics drove him out， and Doctor Mandeville came. Hedidn’t have a wife. I heard him talking one time with theengineer. The engineer and his wife fought like cats anddogs， and that day Doctor Mandeville told him he wasdamn glad he wasn’t tied to no petticoats. A petticoat is askirt. I knew what he meant， if I was a feeb. But I neverlet on. You hear lots when you don’t let on.
I’ve seen a lot in my time. Once I was adopted， and wentaway on the railroad over forty miles to live with a mannamed Peter Bopp and his wife. They had a ranch. DoctorAnglin said I was strong and bright， and I said I was， too.
That was because I wanted to be adopted. And PeterBopp said he’d give me a good home， and the lawyers fixedup the papers.
But I soon made up my mind that a ranch was no placefor me. Mrs. Bopp was scared to death of me and wouldn’tlet me sleep in the house. They fixed up the woodshed andmade me sleep there. I had to get up at four o’clock andfeed the horses， and milk cows， and carry the milk to theneighbours. They called it chores， but it kept me goingall day. I chopped wood， and cleaned chicken houses， andweeded vegetables， and did most everything on the place.
I never had any fun. I hadn’t no time.
Let me tell you one thing. I’d sooner feed mush andmilk to feebs than milk cows with the frost on the ground.
Mrs. Bopp was scared to let me play with her children.
And I was scared， too. They used to make faces atme when nobody was looking， and call me “Looney.”
Everybody called me Looney Tom. And the other boysin the neighbourhood threw rocks at me. You never seeanything like that in the Home here. The feebs are betterbehaved.
Mrs. Bopp used to pinch me and pull my hair when shethought I was too slow， and I only made foolish noisesand went slower. She said I’d be the death of her some day.
I left the boards off the old well in the pasture， and thepretty new calf fell in and got drowned. Then Peter Boppsaid he was going to give me a licking. He did， too. Hetook a strap halter and went at me. It was awful. I’d neverhad a licking in my life. They don’t do such things in theHome， which is why I say the Home is the place for me.
I know the law， and I knew he had no right to lickme with a strap halter. That was being cruel， and theguardianship papers said he mustn’t be cruel. I didn’t sayanything. I just waited， which shows you what kind of afeeb I am. I waited a long time， and got slower， and mademore foolish noises； but he wouldn’t， send me back tothe Home， which was what I wanted. But one day， it wasthe first of the month， Mrs. Brown gave me three dollars，which was for her milk bill with Peter Bopp. That was inthe morning. When I brought the milk in the evening Iwas to bring back the receipt. But I didn’t. I just walkeddown to the station， bought a ticket like any one， and rodeon the train back to the Home. That’s the kind of a feeb Iam.
Doctor Anglin was gone then， and Doctor Mandevillehad his place. I walked right into his office. He didn’tknow me. “Hello，” he said， “this ain’t visiting day.” “I ain’t avisitor，” I said. “I’m Tom. I belong here.” Then he whistledand showed he was surprised. I told him all about it， andshowed him the marks of the strap halter， and he gotmadder and madder all the time and said he’d attend toMr. Peter Bopp’s case.
And mebbe you think some of them little droolersweren’t glad to see me.
I walked right into the ward. There was a new nursefeeding little Albert. “Hold on，” I said. “That ain’t the way.
Don’t you see how he’s twisting that left eye？ Let me showyou.” Mebbe she thought I was a new doctor， for she justgave me the spoon， and I guess I filled little Albert up withthe most comfortable meal he’d had since I went away.
Droolers ain’t bad when you understand them. I heardMiss Jones tell Miss Kelsey once that I had an amazinggift in handling droolers.