“Huh! Hear that, Maw?”
“I heard it,” says Mrs. Jones, “and if you paint like you split wood, Patt kin sleep half a day and beat you with one hand tied.”
“Think so, do you? Think so? That’s your idee? Wa-al, I’ll show you. That’s what I’ll do.... Maw, you jest walk down to that job and cock your eyes up at me a-workin’ if you want to see paint fly. Paint hain’t never flew as I’ll make it fly. You watch.”
“Then you agree?” says Catty.
“You kin bet your bottom dollar. When do we start?”
“Monday morning at seven. By the way, have you any ladders we can rent?”
“Jest rented my ladders to a feller in the next town. Wasn’t no paintin’ jobs in sight, so I figgered to realize on my investment.”
“All right.” says Catty, not showing a mite that he was disappointed. “At seven sharp, on Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” says Mr. Jones.
After that we went over to Darkie Patt’s, and made about the same kind of talk, and got the same results. Patt had two ladders, but both of them was busted or something and couldn’t be used. Said he hadn’t figured on painting much this summer, because, what with night lines and one thing and another, he calc’lated to make a living a heap pleasanter than by buttering the side of a house with yellow paint.