“Dad,” said Catty, after Jim Bockers had been in business a week or so, and had got about all the business there was going just by waiting till Catty and his father made a price for the job and then doing the work cheaper than they would, “I got a idea for fixin’ Bockers.”
Mr. Atkins had been showing a little more interest in his business since Bockers started. It wasn’t that he wanted to work any more, but it sort of made him mad to have another man prevent him from working, like Bockers was trying to do. He had been in town a month now, and it seemed to me like I could see some change in him already. It wasn’t just that Catty made him keep shaved and his beard trimmed, but it was sort of in the way he talked and how he looked at things. Most of the time he was just the same Mr. Atkins that wanted to tramp the roads and be shiftless, but there were times when he got interested in something, and for as much as a half an hour at a time didn’t appear to object even to working. Catty said it was encouraging.
“What’s the idee?” says Mr. Atkins.
“Our sign says builder, don’t it?”
“Calc’late it does.”
“Know anythin’ about buildin’, Dad?”
“Not a doggone thing.”
“Don’t make no difference. Somebody knows about it, and we kin make arrangements to make use of what they know.”
“Uh-huh. S’pose so.”
“Well, I hear Mr. Witherspoon is goin’ to build him a house. Thing for us to do is to git the job. Git it sudden ’fore folks know we’re after it. It ’ll keep us busy, and keep our men busy so’s nobody kin hire ’em off of us. We’ll make more money, maybe, than just by paintin’ and paperhangin’, and if we git the job, we’ll have the paintin’ and paperhangin’ to do, anyhow.”