“Manners! Who? Me?... Hoo! Wouldn’t I look nice with manners? What ’u’d I do with ’em, Catty?”
“Never you mind, Dad, you’re a-goin’ to have plenty of ’em, so git ready fer it.”
I went to bed sort of early because I wanted to be on hand before the doings started in the morning, and I was there. It was a great morning, and most of the town was on hand to see the parade start off and the beginning of the painting-race. Mr. Manning came out to see what was going on, and Catty says to him, “We’re on the job on time, Mr. Manning.”
“I see you are,” says he. That was all, but he sort of grinned and walked back into his office.
After a while folks sort of wandered off home and the real work began. Mr. Atkins was supposed to be the boss, but Catty was the fellow that did the bossing. He kept his eye on his father mostly, and every time Mr. Atkins acted like he was going to come down off his ladder and rest, Catty was right there to sick him on, and every once in a while he would make his Dad come down and walk around to look at Patt and Jones and sort of jack them up and make them believe he was right on the job.
“I wish Dad was kind of broke to work,” says Catty, “because there’s a lot of things I’ve got to do. But I can’t go off and leave him yet.” All that day those three men painted, and it was a surprise to me to see how much they got done. At night Mr. Atkins grumbled and talked a lot about pains in his back, and painter’s colic and such things, but Catty was right on top of him all the time and led him to work next morning.
“Dad,” says he, “you always keep your word when you give it, don’t you?”
“Calc’late to,” says Mr. Atkins.
“I want you should promise me you won’t do nothin’ but work till I git back. I’ve got to go and do some things. Will you promise?”
“Don’t see how I kin git out of it,” says Mr. Atkins, kind of sorrowful.