“Wee-wee,” says he, after a few minutes, “I wisht I could find somebody that would pay me somethin’ for this stock. I kin lose money on it and still be ahead. I’d sell and scoot if I could git cash money.”
“You stay where you be,” says I, and off I ran to find Catty.
I found him in the store, lecturing his father about clothes and telling him how he ought to buy a good suit, with a dress-up hat for Sundays, and how he had to do it with the first money they could spare. “It means a lot. You go around lookin’ swell, and folks won’t remember how you used to look. First you know you’ll be as respectable as anybody. You’ll be gettin’ elected a director in the bank.”
“Catty,” said I, busting right in on him, “Jim Bookers is ready to quit. He’ll sell out for cash, and scoot.”
“Honest?” says he.
“Honest Injun,” says I. “Come on.”
I looked around Catty’s shop. They didn’t commence to have the stock Jim did. It would be fine if they could get Jim’s and move it in.
Catty and I hustled over to Jim’s.
“Hear you’re willin’ to sell,” says Catty. “For cash,” says Jim.
“And sign an agreement sayin’ you won’t go into business in this town again for ten years?” says Catty.