something, and it would come out a real funny high squeak, or it would sound like his throat was squeezing the words to death, and he would clear his throat or cough and start all over again. And Jeffy knew when all that happened, that the vein on The Old Rocker's forehead got enormous, it stood out and pounded like it was mad and ready to break. So Jeffy looked up then, like always, because it was really something to see. And there it was, all mad and throbbing, and Jeffy watched it, fascinated, as it weaved back and forth as the old man gently rocked and clinked the silver dollars.

"Well-er, uh-humph! (cough cough, clink clink)-I mean-er-boy, you been exercising it-I mean-you know-(cough cough, clink clink)-been exercising it good, like I showed you how? Ho! Yah! You been doing that boy? (chuckle chuckle, clink clink.)"

"Oh, sometimes."

"Ho! Ho! Sometimes! Sometimes, he says! Well-er-(clink clink)er-going now-yes-got to go home now. Boy, you might come by?" "Oh, I might."

Suddenly, jerkily, The Old Rocker took his hand out of his pocket, made his back real stiff, turned around and, staring straight ahead, walked off in his stiff but smooth soldier walk that always seemed so funny because it didn't seem at all the proper walk of a man that always rocked when he quit walking.

He crawled into bed, frowning. What had happened this day?

III

Everything had been different. Everybody had been different. He was

different.

This morning with Pop and Mom. They had looked at him different, made him feel different. Then even a little while ago at dinner, every once in a while he could feel them looking funnylike at him, like he was somebody else all of a sudden, somebody new.

Then what had happened with The Old Rocker. That had sure been different! And while he had been putting his clothes back on, The Old Rocker had looked different at him and had smiled at him and had even chuckled different at him-and then had given him two silver dollars instead of one! And his body had felt different, and he felt his body differently. All the way back home he had rubbed the two silver dollars together while wondering about it all, and then he had crawled under the cob shed to his secret place and had dug up the fruit jars and had put in the two new silver dollars and had counted them all, all twenty-eight, and then he had just sat there, thinking how he was different, how he felt things differently. "Growing up," Mom had said.

What was growing up?

You didn't grow up day by day, it seemed. A special day like this came along, and you didn't even know it was going to be a special day, but then thinking about it afterward you knew something had happened to you. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you knew for sure something had happened to you.

This day was like that other day. This day was like that day a long time back when he had gotten to wondering real hard about his head. For no special reason he had gotten to wondering real hard why all of him

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