“All right,” says Catty. “Come on, Wee-wee.
“Where?” says I.
“Got to look around for another job to be done when we finish this,” says he.
“Where?” says I.
“I dunno,” says he.
We went over to town and walked around sort of aimless, keeping our eyes open for a place that looked like painting was needed, but Catty said that wasn’t any way. We had to find out some way of discovering who wanted to have work done, and then go and see that person and land the job.
There was a high hedge around the Baptist Church and we lay down in the shade of it to think it over. While we were there we saw quite a lot of women going into the side door that led to the room in the basement where socials and suppers were held. One of the windows was right beside us, and pretty soon somebody opened it, because it was a warm day. Catty and I kept talking off and on and doing all the thinking we knew how.
All at once three or four ladies came over by the window and began to talk, and one of them was Mrs. Gage. I could tell by her voice.
“Something’s got to be done,” she said, angry-like. “And it’s us women that have to do it.”
“Men never seem to mind such things,” said somebody else.