We went to a restaurant and ate till we ’most busted, and afterward we had two ice-creams apiece and a bag of peanuts and went to a picture-show. By that time it was two o’clock, and Catty walked me down the street quite a ways, looking in windows and planning what we would buy if we had lots of money. He was interested in clothes, and stopped quite a while in front of a big clothing-store where boys’ suits was fixed up on wax figures. “I got to dress up some,” says he, “as well as Dad. I been puttin’ away a little money to git me some clothes—real respectable clothes, and as soon as we’re through our business I’m a-goin’ in and git me a suit and some shirts and shoes that ’ll knock the eyes right out of the folks back home. Wait till you see me.” CHAPTER XVI We kept going till we got to one of the biggest stores in town. It was a furniture-store, and it looked big enough to hold furniture enough to fill every house in the state. Catty turned in. “What’s the idee?” says I. “Goin’ to buy some respectable furniture, too?” “Some day, but not yet. Got to have a house first.” “You’re goin’ to have a house?” “Jest wait and see. One of these days Dad an’ me is goin’ to have a house that ’ll make Captain Winton’s look like a cow-shed. There’s nothin’ like a fine house to make folks b’lieve you’re respectable. I dunno why it is, but as soon as a body moves into a big house he gets to be somebody right off. Jest you get a fine house, and folks takes off their hats to you.” “Maybe,” says I; “but what are we comin’ in here for?” “To see the man that owns it.” “Why?” “You’ll see in a minute,” says he. We took the elevator and asked to be let off at the office, and when we got there we asked for the man that owned the store. A young man behind a window with gratings over it sort of grinned and asked what we wanted to see him for. “That’s betwixt him and me,” says Catty, squinting at the young man kind of close. “He’s busy. He can’t see kids.” “Better tell him I’m here,” says Catty. “Run along now, and don’t waste my time,” says the young man. Catty he sort of squinted at the young man again, and then at the grating over the window. “Poor feller,” says he, as sympathetic as a mourner. “What’s that?” says the young man. “I was jest feelin’ sorry for you,” says Catty. “First off I didn’t understand. It is a kind of funny place to keep you, though.” “What you talking about, kid?” “Why, at first I didn’t understand you was weak-minded and that’s why they shut you behind them bars. I didn’t realize you was weak-minded till you showed it so plain.” We heard somebody kind of chuckle over to the left, and there was a fine-looking man with whiskers parted in the middle. “He kind of had you there, Jones,” says he. “What made you think he was weak-minded, Son?”