“When did you order this here lumber?”
“March.”
“Um!...” Catty’s eyes kind of twinkled. “If you don’t believe I’m responsible, telephone Mr. Heminway.”
“I’ll just do that thing,” yelled Mr. Bolger. And he did.
“Say,” he bellowed into the telephone when he got his connection, “there’s a kid out here wants lumber. Says you know him. What’s it all about? Some kind of a joke?”
Mr. Heminway said something we couldn’t hear.
“He’s all right, eh? His firm’s good?”
Mr. Heminway said yes, I guess, for Mr. Bolger hung up the receiver and turned around to us. “It’s a deal,” says he. “You take the invoices and pay ’em to Heminway less five per cent., and I’ll give you a check for that. Suit you?”
“Yes. Glad to have a chance to help you out, Mr. Bolger. Will you write a letter to Mr. Heminway, telling him about the deal and puttin’ in the price you agreed to pay him, and all about it?”
Mr. Bolger turned around and dictated a letter, reading off the specifications of the lumber and his March contract price, and when it was done he wrote a check for five per cent, of the amount and gave it to Catty. “Much obliged, young man,” says he. “You sure helped me out of a hole, and any time Brown & Bolger can do anything for you just chirp. Thankee again.”