“Ladders and planks and brushes and oils.”
“Um!... Cost much?”
“Heaps.”
For a minute Catty didn’t say a word, but just stared at the water. Then he says to himself, “Where in tunket be I goin’ to git ladders and brushes and them things?”
“Hain’t thinkin’ of makin’ me go to paintin’, be you?”
“Thinkin’ of it some,” says Catty, “but thinkin’ ’s as far’s I kin git jest now.”
“Then I’ll keep on fishin’,” says Mr. Atkins. “No use gittin’ het up and worried before it’s time.”
“We got to have respectable clothes, too.” says Catty.
“Next thing I’ll be wearin’ a plug-hat,” says Mr. Atkins.
“Maybe on Sundays,” says Catty, serious as anything. I guess he was thinking quite a ways ahead.