she slumbered; she would need all her
powers presently.

She slumbered, and dreamed not that she would wake to mingle with events
that were to alter her serene disposition radically and cause her to
become hasty-tempered and abnormally suspicious for the rest of her
life.

Meanwhile, Penrod appeared to reach a doubtful solution of his problem.
His expression was still somewhat clouded as he brought from the
storeroom of the stable a small fragment of a broken mirror, two paint
brushes and two old cans, one containing black paint and the other
white. He regarded himself earnestly in the mirror; then, with some
reluctance, he dipped a brush into one of the cans, and slowly painted
his nose a midnight black. He was on the point of spreading this
decoration to cover the lower part of his face, when he paused, brush
halfway between can and chin.

What arrested him was a sound from the alley--a sound of drumming upon
tin. The eyes of Penrod became significant of rushing thoughts; his
expression cleared and brightened. He ran to the alley doors and flung
them open.

"Oh, Verman!" he shouted.

Marching up and down before the cottage across the alley, Verman plainly
considered himself to be an army. Hanging from his shoulders by a string
was an old tin wash-basin, whereon he beat cheerily with two dry bones,
once the chief support of a chicken. Thus he assuaged his ennui.

"Verman, come on in here," Penrod called. "I got sumpthing for you to do
you'll like awful well."

Verman halted, ceased to drum, and stared. His gaze was not fixed
particularly upon Penrod's nose, however, and neither now nor later did
he make any remark or gesture referring to this casual eccentricity. He
expected things like that upon Penrod or Sam Williams. And as for Penrod
himself, he had already forgotten that his nose was painted.

"Come on, Verman!"

Verman continued to stare, not moving. He had received such invitations
before, and they had not always resulted to his advantage. Within that
stable things had happened to him the like of which he was anxious to
avoid in the future.

"Oh, come ahead, Verman!" Penrod urged, and, divining logic in the
reluctance confronting him, he added, "This ain't goin' to be anything
like last time, Verman. I got sumpthing just SPLENDUD for you to do!"

Verman's expression hardened; he shook his head decisively.

"Mo," he said.

"Oh, COME on, Verman?" Penrod pleaded. "It isn't anything goin' to HURT