“Why?”
“Because,” says Catty, “you know I mean business. You do know it, and you know I’ll give you a good job or bust.”
“Huh!...” says Mr. Manning. “Where’s your equipment? Your ladders and staging and brushes and paints?”
“Give me this job and I’ll have ’em. I’ll start work here Monday. This is Thursday.”
“I’ll be jiggered!” says Mr. Manning. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
Mr. Manning scowled at Catty, and I thought it was coming then, but in a minute he spoke. “Young man,” says he, “if you can be here with proper equipment and workmen at seven o’clock Monday morning, you can have the job. If a kid like you has the crust to tackle a thing like this, and, without a cent, can scrape together equipment and workmen, I’ll make a bet you can do the job. Satisfy you?”
“Yes.”
“Git!” says Mr. Manning.
“Monday at seven,” says Catty, and we walked out.