Cathead had very little use for this misshapen trophy of the fire in the People's Pool Parlor, and readily included it. And one by one Sube enumerated all the things of which he had previously been mulcted, and they all came back to him. Then Cathead took his fish-pole and hurried off to join Cottontop Sigsbee for a day's sport with the finny family. A few moments later, as Sube was trundling the lawn-mower out of the barn door he was hailed by Sim. "What you want?" asked Sube a little bit peevishly. "I wanta talk to you a minute," replied Sim with a nervous laugh. "You see, I was jus' down lookin' at those p'tatoes, and, now--you know--now--you know I had to sprout a couple of bushels--" Sim was at a loss for the words to express the desired meaning most effectively. "What of it?" grunted Sube. "Are you through?" "I should say I ain't!" cried Sim. "Why, I ain't started yet!" "You better get busy, then," advised Sube as he started on with the mower. "Wait a min-ute! Can't you?" cried Sim. "I got work to do," asserted Sube as he brought the mower to a standstill. "If you got an'thing to say to me, make it snappy." "That's what I'm tryin' to do," whined Sim, "if you'll only hold your horses long enough. Now--now I got a sore hand, and now--I can't sprout p'tatoes very good; and now--what'll you take to sprout 'em?" Sube glanced at his brother sharply. "Where you wanta go to-day?" he demanded. Sim squirmed uneasily as he scrutinized the palm of his injured hand, looking in vain for something that even remotely resembled a sore spot, and digging diligently with his thumbnail in the hope of unearthing one. "Nowheres much," he replied finally. "All right then! What you yappin' about? Go on back and do your work," advised Sube as he made a move to proceed with the lawn-mower. "Aw, wait a min-ute! Can't you? Give a feller a chance to say some'pm! Can't you?" "Well?" Sube rested on his lawn-mower expectantly. "Now--now Ted Horner's comin' for me at ha'past nine to see--now--to see if I can--now--can go out to their farm to spend the day." "Well?" "Why, now--now--I thought maybe I could get you--" Sube opened negotiations without waiting for Sim to conclude his statements. "What'll you gimme?" he asked. "What'll you take?" "Well, what'll you gimme?" "Well, what'll you take?" "Look here!" cried Sube with exasperation. "Ain't I got to know what you pay before I can go to work for you?" "Yes, and ain't I got to know what you charge 'fore I can hire you?" returned Sim feebly. "Huh!" snorted Sube as he made a feint to go on with the lawn-mower. Sim came to time. "Give you a dime," he offered magnanimously. Without deigning to reply Sube started on with the mower. He had cut twice across the lawn before Sim appeared at the corner of the house. "Hey, Sube! Give you fifteen!" he called. "Nuthin' doin'," returned Sube as he went about his work with renewed vigor.