“And paint?”
“Hardware-stores.”
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing across the river.
“Kind of a furniture-factory. Make all sorts of things. That new buildin’ that’s jest bein’ finished up is a warehouse. Never saw a bigger buildin’. Two hunderd foot long and sixty wide.”
“’Tis kind of big,” says he, and began to squint at it. “Looks ’most done. Shinglin’ ’most finished.”
“Uh-huh,” says I.
“Come on,” says he, and his eyes began to kind of shine and his lips pressed together.
“Where?”
“Over there to the mill.”
“What for?”