“Much obliged, Mr. Heminway. Have you ordered those cars in?”
“The first is being loaded now. All of them will go out before to-morrow night.”
“I’m sure a heap obliged to you,” says Catty. “Now I got some more business, and I got to be gettin’ along. G’-by, sir.”
“Good-by, young man, and come to see me whenever you come to the city. Good luck.... I hope you get as respectable as you want to be.”
“I figger to,” says Catty, as we went out of the door.
“Now what?” says I.
“Oh, we’ll git us some dinner and then I want to see about somethin’ else. I got an idee. Hain’t sure it amounts to anythin’, but you can’t tell. I got to make sure.”
“What is it?” says I.
“You’ll see,” says he, which was the way he always did. He kept things to himself till he was ready to tell, and sometimes he didn’t tell them. It seemed like he hated to give up any information.
We went to a restaurant and ate till we ’most busted, and afterward we had two ice-creams apiece and a bag of peanuts and went to a picture-show. By that time it was two o’clock, and Catty walked me down the street quite a ways, looking in windows and planning what we would buy if we had lots of money. He was interested in clothes, and stopped quite a while in front of a big clothing-store where boys’ suits was fixed up on wax figures.