“I figger it’s ’most done,” says Catty. “All we got to do is to make money now to _look_ respectable. Dad’s learnin’ to work ag’in, and his manners is improvin’. You ought to ketch sight of him in his Sunday clothes. Why, I got him lookin’ respectabler ’n a judge or a deacon.” “You seem to have a pretty good head for business, Atkins,” says Mr. Heminway. “There’s always a way to get what you want in business, and you want this lumber bad. I can’t give it to you, but maybe you can find a way to get it—to make me give it to you. I wish I could help you, but I try to do business the same way you are trying to do it—by giving everybody a square deal. It wouldn’t be right for me to show you favors, nor to put you ahead of somebody whose order came in first, would it?” “No, sir,” says Catty. “Well, then?” “Lemme think.” Catty went over by the window and thought and thought. As far as I was concerned I figured he might as well be thinking about what a nice day it was, for all the good it would do, but I didn’t say anything. I just waited and watched him. His thin face looked a lot thinner, and you could see the corners of his jaws and his lips were as straight as if you had drawn them with a ruler. Every once in a while he bit his under-lip and sort of scowled. “It wouldn’t be right to offer you more money, ’cause that would be jest like bribin’,” says he. “That’s right,” says Mr. Heminway. “Would it be all right for you to tell me the names of some of the folks that come ahead of us?” Catty says. “Not in the least,” says Mr. Heminway, and he gave Catty four or five names and addresses. “Any of these orderin’ the same kind of lumber we be? Dimension stuff and spruce and floorin’ and sich?” “Brown & Bolger have an order very like yours, but larger. Two or three car-loads larger.” “Uh-huh. In town here, hain’t they?” “Yes.” “When be you goin’ to deliver to them?” “We’re starting deliveries to-day.” “Look here, Mr. Heminway. Will you order in cars to put that lumber on for me? I’m goin’ to have it. Will you git ready to load it right off? I’ll pay whatever extry expense there is, or, if I can’t git this lumber, I’ll pay whatever your trouble costs.” “I’ll do it,” says Mr. Heminway, and his eyes kind of got bright, like he was interested. “Come on,” says Catty to me. “We’re goin’ to Brown & Bolger’s.” We got on a street-car and got to the place we were headed for in about twenty minutes. Brown & Bolger’s office was in a little square wooden house built on the corner of a subdivision, and we walked in. Mr. Bolger was there. He was a red man. His hair was red and his face was red and his hands was red, and he had a voice that sounded like he wanted to scare anybody to death even when he was whispering. He was talking to a couple of men and all three of them were mad.