“Can’t afford it. Hain’t got the money to move. Got all this stock; besides, my sister-in-law’s so dead set on runnin’ them fellers out of town that I dassen’t quit.” “Run away,” says I. “I’d lose my stock,” says he, “and I’ve lost more ’n enough already.” “Um!...” I says, thinking it over. “What if you could sell your stock?” “Got a lease on this store, or rather that sister-in-law of mine has. It runs for a year. The rent’s got to be paid.” “That’s _her_ lookout, hain’t it? She got you into this mess, didn’t she?” “Calc’late she did.” “Well?” says I. “Wee-wee,” says he, after a few minutes, “I wisht I could find somebody that would pay me somethin’ for this stock. I kin lose money on it and still be ahead. I’d sell and scoot if I could git cash money.” “You stay where you be,” says I, and off I ran to find Catty. I found him in the store, lecturing his father about clothes and telling him how he ought to buy a good suit, with a dress-up hat for Sundays, and how he had to do it with the first money they could spare. “It means a lot. You go around lookin’ swell, and folks won’t remember how you used to look. First you know you’ll be as respectable as anybody. You’ll be gettin’ elected a director in the bank.” “Catty,” said I, busting right in on him, “Jim Bookers is ready to quit. He’ll sell out for cash, and scoot.” “Honest?” says he. “Honest Injun,” says I. “Come on.” I looked around Catty’s shop. They didn’t commence to have the stock Jim did. It would be fine if they could get Jim’s and move it in. Catty and I hustled over to Jim’s. “Hear you’re willin’ to sell,” says Catty. “For cash,” says Jim. “And sign an agreement sayin’ you won’t go into business in this town again for ten years?” says Catty. “You bet. I got all the business here that I want for a hundred years.” “How much you want for everything?” “Dunno till I take inventory.” “Let’s take it,” says Catty, and in a minute we went at it hammer and tongs. It took us till late that night, but when we were through we knew exactly what that stock and stuff of Jim’s had cost. “Set a price,” says Catty. Jim did, and Catty just laughed. Right off he told Jim what he would pay, and it was a lot less. “I’m lookin’ for a bargain,” Catty says. “That’s my price, cash. You kin take it or leave it. I’ll give you ten minutes to think it over, and if you don’t take it then the offer is all off and we don’t make a deal.” “You’re robbin’ me,” says Jim. “You tried to rob Dad and me,” says Catty. “You’re gittin’ what’s comin’ to you.” Jim he argued and fussed and hollered and haggled. But Catty just kept looking at the clock. “Time’s up,” he says. “What’s your answer?” Jim he goggled and strangled, but there wasn’t anything for it. He had to take his medicine. “All right,” says he. “Cash.” “Cash,” says Catty, “as soon as the bank opens.”.