And he took up the handle of his cart, and he walked off as fast as he could, dragging his cart, and his shovel and his hoe rattled in the bottom of it; and his cat ran on ahead, with her bushy tail sticking up in the air. I don't know why David took his cart that time, for there wasn't any mortar man, and there wasn't any sand-pile. He almost always took his cart. When David got to the house, there was the foreman standing in almost the same place, but the painters had lowered the staging some more. And David didn't say anything, but he dropped the handle of his cart, and he went to the foreman and reached up for the foreman's hand. And the foreman's big hand closed over David's little one, and the foreman smiled, but he didn't say anything, either. He waited for David to speak. David watched the painters for some time. "What color are they painting it?" he asked at last. "It looks like white on the brushes, but sort of watery when they put it on, just as my paints look when I put a great deal of water with them. Have they got a great deal of water with their paint?" "Not water, Davie," the foreman answered, "but oil. This is the first coat of paint, you see, put right on the bare wood, and the wood soaks the oil out of the paint at a great rate. They won't put so much oil in the second and third coats." "Oh," said David, "will they paint it three times?" "Three times for new wood," the foreman said. [Illustration: PAINTING] He didn't say any more then, but he watched and so did David while the painters dipped their brushes and patted them against the sides of their paint-pots and brushed them quickly back and forth over the new clapboards. "Come with me, Davie," the foreman said at last, "and let's see if we can't scare up something else that's interesting." And so David went with the foreman, and they went around by the cellar door. And there they saw a great pile of shutters or blinds which were to go on the outside of all the windows of the house. These blinds were leaning, one against another, and they had already been painted a kind of bluish gray, and each one had whole rows of little slats that you could turn back and forth. And beyond the pile of bluish gray blinds was a smaller pile of dark green blinds, and the dark green blinds glistened with fresh paint, and they were leaning, one against another. And between the pile of bluish gray blinds and the pile of dark green blinds were two painters, painting for dear life, and they were painting the bluish gray blinds dark green. David watched them for a few minutes. It seemed to be a good deal of trouble to get the slats well painted. "These," said the foreman, putting his hand on the bluish gray blinds, "are just as they come from the mill--the factory where they are made. This first coat of paint is put on there. Then our painters paint them whatever color is wanted."