“Besides, I hain’t got no paint-brush. Can’t paint without a brush.” “I’ll git you a brush.” Mr. Atkins stared at the water and waggled his head. “Looks to me like you was goin’ to crowd me right into this paintin’ job. What’s the idee?” “You and me is goin’ to be respectable. You’re a-goin’ to have a store and hire men, and maybe wear a silk hat, and we’re goin’ to have money and a house, and go to church, and have folks invite us to dinner, and all sich.” “I snummy!... What’s that about hirin’ men? Like the sound of it. Why can’t we start out like that? No need of my paintin’ if we kin hire men to do it for me.” “We’ve got to begin small. What we make on this job we’ll put into stock and git a start. In a little while you won’t have to do anythin’ but boss and look after the work, and maybe paint a little on jobs that’s too good to trust to anybody else.” “Hope we don’t git many of them kind of jobs,” said Mr. Atkins, mighty sadlike.... “Wa-al, Sonny, if you’re sot on your ol’ Dad a-fallin’ off a ladder with the colic, why, you go ahead, and I’ll tumble for you as often as I kin till I wear out. Maybe we won’t git no job, though,” he said, with what looked to me like a hopeful look. “We got one—and a big one. Start in Monday. All I got to do is git brushes and ladders and paints and sich.” “That all you need to git?” “Yes.” “Um!... Guess I’ll go on fishin’, then. We kin eat fish, but a feller that starts in to eat a paintin’ job when he hain’t got paint to spread nor brushes to spread it, nor yet ladders to climb up onto, is goin’ hungry for a spell. When you git all them things you come back and tell me, and I’ll go to work.” “Promise that?” “Yes indeedy.” “G’-by, Dad. I got to hustle around spry.” “Looks that way. I’ll have fish for supper, Sonny.” We walked off, but Catty acted like he was perfectly satisfied. “Dad he never made no promise he didn’t keep,” says he. “When once he’s give out his word, that’s the end. Now let’s see about them ladders.” CHAPTER VI “Know of any ladders in town?” Catty asked, after a while. “Fire company’s got some,” says I. “New hook-and-ladder was bought this spring.” Catty thought it over awhile. “Don’t b’lieve we could borrow them,” says he. “Them fire companies is p’tic’lar about lendin’ things. Still, if we can’t git ’em anywheres else, we’ll try.” When I got to know him better I saw that he was perfectly serious about it, too. If he knew there was a thing he wanted, he figured there must be some way to get it. He told me once that a fellow could get anything if he just sat down and _thought_ long enough. “I’ll bet,” says he, “that you could get _anything_ just by asking for it, if you could think of exactly the right way to ask.” Maybe that was so. I wish I could believe it and learn how to do it. There’s a heap of things that I want bad and haven’t any chance ever to get unless I do get ’em by asking right.