“Somebody’s got to,” says Jack.
“Dad can’t. He’s got to stay on the work. It ’ll have to be me.”
“Think you can manage it?” Jack said, pretty anxious and doubtful.
“Looks like I got to,” says Catty, “and when you got to do a thing you ’most gen’ally do it.”
So that’s how it came that Catty and I went to the city. It was only a couple of hours’ ride and my father let me go when Catty asked him if I couldn’t. We took an early-morning train and got to the city before nine o’clock. We went right to the office of the lumber company, but the man that was at the head of it wasn’t there yet. He came in in a few minutes, and went right to his office. Catty asked to see him, and told the clerk he was from Atkins & Phillips. We were let in, and Mr. Heminway looked us over and says, “What d’ you want?” Short and sharplike he was.
“Lumber,” says Catty, as sober as he always is when he gets down to business.
“Lots of folks do. What do you want it for? To build a dog-house?”
“I want to build a dozen cottages,” says Catty, “and, Mr. Heminway, I got to have it. I jest got to.”
“Oh, you’re from Atkins & Phillips? Of course. I remember. We wrote that we couldn’t make delivery for three weeks.”
“In three weeks we won’t need it,” says Catty.