Mr. Witherspoon nodded. “That sounds very reasonable, Mr. Atkins.... Here are my plans and specifications. I think I shall give you a chance to bid on the job. Want to take them to figure over?”
“Yes,” says Catty.
He took the papers and we said good-by to Mr. Witherspoon, and out we went.
“How in tunket,” says Catty, “do you figger out how much it’s goin’ to cost to build a house?”
“Hain’t got no idee,” says I.
“Nor me,” says Mr. Atkins.
“The name of the feller that drew these plans is printed on ’em,” says Catty. “Seems like he ought to know.”
“Where’s he at?” says Mr. Atkins. “Canton,” says Catty. “Five miles east, hain’t it, Wee-wee?”
“Yes,” says I.
“I’ll walk over with ’em,” says Mr. Atkins, eager-like. You see, he was jest achin’ to get his feet on a sandy road and ramble.