“Yes,” says he.
“You’ll find him here,” says I, “pervidin’ you wait long enough. This is about the only place I know of where he’ll be. I calc’late to see him amblin’ in perty soon.”
“I’ll wait,” says he. “Where’s the office?”
“If you’d call it an office,” says I, “it’s through that door.”
He walked over and jerked open the door. One look inside give him a plentiful sufficiency. You couldn’t see for dust and cobwebs and chunks and dirt that Tallow was stirring around like he was one of these whirlwinds. The air was plumb full of rubbish. I bet Tallow was having a bully time. The man shut the door quick and backed off.
“Is that the office?” says he.
“Sich as it is,” said I.
“Where can I wait?” says he.
“Pick out a place yourself,” says I.
He walked around disgusted-like, looking for a place to sit down, but he didn’t seem to get suited. There wasn’t a place that would have agreed with them pants of his. He didn’t hanker to git dirt on ’em, and I wasn’t dusting off anything for him just then.