“Yes.”
“What’s it a-doin’ here?”
“If you and Jack will come back into the back room, Wee-wee and me ’ll tell you about it.”
So we went into the back room and Catty told them all about the thing from beginning to end, not as if he had done it all alone, like he really did, but givin’ me a full halfshare in it. He wasn’t the kind of a fellow to hog the glory if there was any, and I felt called on to tell them that I didn’t have much to do with it except to watch and do what I was told. Jack Phillips was so surprised he couldn’t hardly wiggle, and he says:
“D’you mean you kids figured out this thing and worked it all the way through by yourselves—without help?”
“It was jest exactly like I told it,” says Catty.
“Well,” says Jack, “I guess I tied up to the right firm. The day’s coming when Atkins & Phillips is going to amount to something in this neck of the woods. Catty, my hat’s off to you.”
“Jack,” says Catty, “Dad’s got a heap more brains and ability than what I got. I was jest patternin’ after him, and doin’ like I figgered he’d do if he was in my place.” Jack didn’t say anything for a second, and then he says, kind of slow and still, “Atkins,” says he, “if I had a son that thought as much of me as yours does of you, I’d figure I was the richest man in the world.”
Mr. Atkins scratched his head. “Me and Catty gits along splendid,” says he, “but there’s times when he’s hard to live up to, what with his spoons and forks and liftin’ your hat, and sich. But I guess he’s got me tamed. Seems like there hain’t much shiftlessness left into me.”
“And when we git through with that churn,” says Catty, “this whole town is goin’ to stand on its hind legs and cheer for you. Dad, we’re totterin’ right on the edge of bein’ awful respectable here.”