“This feller,” says I, pointing to Catty, “is named Atkins, and he’s got paintin’ work.” Mr. Jones looked Catty over kind of hopeless, and then says: “Paintin’ work? How much? Dog-kennel maybe. I hain’t no time to be paintin’ dog-kennels.”
“It’s a big job, Mr. Jones,” says Catty, “and my father has to hire several good men to help him.”
“Your father! Who’s your Paw, Sonny?”
“Mr. Atkins, the master painter,” says Catty, without wiggling an eyebrow. “He calc’lates to hire several men, and sent me to see if you wanted a job beginning Monday.”
“What’s the job?”
“Paintin’ Mr. Manning’s new warehouse.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“Can’t do it. Too big. Before I got t’ other end of it painted the paint on the first end ’u’d be wore out and I’d have to start in repaintin’ ag’in. Hain’t lookin’ for no permanent paintin’ job. I like variety. Different jobs every day or so; that’s me.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” says Catty. “There’ll be other men. There’ll be my father to boss and to work, and this Mr. Patt—”