“Figger I ought to git twenty dollars a month for that buildin’.”
“Give you seventeen and a half,” says Catty, “and take it for not less ’n a year.”
“Rent payable in advance,” says Mr. Gage, cautious-like.
“We take it from the first of the month. Pay a month’s rent the mornin’ we move in. That all right?”
“Calc’late so.”
“Write it,” says Catty.
“Eh?”
“Set it down in pen and ink, so’s I kin show it to Dad and he’ll know I’ve done what’s right,” says Catty.
So Mr. Gage went in and wrote it down like Catty said, and signed his name to it. After that we went on hunting up ladders, but we didn’t find any. It got supper-time and I left Catty and went home.
About nine o’clock that night our door-bell rang, and I went, and it was Catty. He looked mad and he looked queer and he looked worried.