"It won't get on your clo'es much, or anything, Verman," he explained.

"I only just got to--" But as he approached, dripping brush in hand, the wondering look was all gone from Verman; determination took its place.
"Mo!" he said, turned his back, and started for outdoors.
"Look here, Verman," Penrod cried.

"I haven't done anything to you yet, have I?
It isn't goin' to hurt you, is it?
You act like a little teeny bit o' paint was goin' to kill you.

What's the matter of you?
I only just got to paint the top part of your face; I'm not goin' to TOUCH the other part of it--nor your hands or anything.

All _I_ want--" "MO!" said Verman from the doorway.
"Oh, my goodness!" moaned Penrod; and in desperation he drew forth from his pocket his entire fortune.