“I got to git Dad one of them painter’s suits made out of white stuff. You know the kind. Got to have that to-day, too.”
“Why?” says I.
“You’ll see,” says he, which was a way of his. He didn’t always tell a fellow everything that was in his mind, and he took a lot of pleasure in surprising folks. “Ought to git one for along about three dollars, hadn’t I?”
“Guess so,” says I. “Got the three dollars?”
“No, but three dollars hadn’t ought to be hard to git if you set your mind to it.”
“Huh!” says I. “Might as well be a million.”
“You’ll see,” says he. “I hain’t earned much money, but it kin be done. Everybody does it, and if everybody kin do it, why, I calc’late I kin, too.”
“How?”
“Don’t know, but jest keep your ears open and your eyes open, and somethin’s sure to turn up.”
“If you had a cow—” says I.