“How many?”
“As many as Dad thinks is necessary to do it right. Dad he knows his business well.”
“Give us a figger, then,” says the boss. Catty thought a minute. “Mister,” says he, “don’t all these buildin’s have to be painted about once a year—inside and out?”
“Mostly whitewash inside,” says the boss. “Then,” says Catty, “why hain’t it good business for both of us if I was to give you a figger on doin’ all the work by the year? Doin’ all the paintin’ and whitewashin’ necessary, and takin’ all that worry off of your hands.”
“Young man,” says the man with the clothes, “you have ideas. You see where you’re going, and I’m going to make a bet that you get there. That is a business-like proposition. You make a proposition along that line.”
“Thankee, sir. Good mornin’. I’ll have that bid in so quick you’ll be s’prised.”
We hustled back, and Catty got his father to hire a rig and drive right out to the stock-farm. Mr. Atkins spent all the rest of the day there, and Catty spent the rest of the day there sort of moving his father along from one thing to another and seeing to it he didn’t lie down in any shady spots or take any strolls back into the woods. Mr. Atkins made heaps of measurements, and talked a lot to the boss, and when he got to talking business and got really interested he acted like he was another man. He spoke kind of sharp and brisk, and he give you the idea that he knew what he was about. It was funny the way he was changing. You couldn’t notice it much every day, but if you looked at him as he was now and like he was when he first came to town, you wouldn’t believe what you saw.
That night he and Jack Phillips sat up late going over figures, and early the next morning they had things ready to show to the stock-farm company
That night he and Jack Phillips sat up late going over figures, and early the next morning they had things ready to show to the stock-farm company.