“Somebody to see him on business,” says Catty.
“What kind of business?”
“Is he in?” says Catty.
“He is, but you don’t think a couple o’ kids like you can bother him, do you? He’d throw you out by the seat of the pants.”
“Hired to tell folks what he’d do?” says Catty.
Johnnie kind of scowled and didn’t think of anything to say back.
“We’re here on business,” says Catty, “and if you know what’s good for you you’ll tell Mr. Manning so. It’s for him to say whether he’ll see us, and not you.”
“You skedaddle out of here,” says Johnnie, getting off his stool.
Catty grinned at him, but it wasn’t a friendly grin. I got to know it after a while, and whenever he grinned like that I knew he was ready and willing to fight, and that he would fight until he couldn’t see or hear or stand.
“Maybe you kin kick me out,” says he, “and maybe you can’t. You don’t look like much of a kicker. But I kin tell you that you’ll git mussed tryin’ and there’ll be a rumpus in this office that Mr. Manning will hear—and he’ll come bustin’ out to find out what’s the trouble. Then where’ll you be? Kicked out yourself. Jest come right on and try it.”