entine. I had
some painful scenes with Tina; for even if the paint was gone, the scent
of roses, you know. She was going to put a ban on the whole business,
when Nannie contrived some oilcloth aprons out of a discarded table
covering. This appeased her. One day Elsa's father gave us the dregs of
a can of red paint. Another painter who was doing some work in the shop
glowered at him, and from him to a white window sash that he had just
finished. He was a very gruff old fellow, of whom I stood in dreadful
fear. I thought he was very much such a looking man as the ogre in 'Jack
and the Beanstalk.' 'Them kids will mess up something if you give 'em
paint, you'll see,' the ogre growled, 'but they better keep clear of
_my_ sash, if they know what's good for 'em!' With that he followed
Elsa's father out of the shop. We were left with our artistic fury. I
don't know exactly how the calamity came about, but Elsa wanted the
paint can which Nannie was using. If Elsa wanted anything and didn't get
it, she grew angry. It was her papa's shop and her papa's paint and she
had a right to have it, she _would_ have it! 'But he gave it to us all,'
I protested, rather shocked at the squabble. Nannie didn't say anything;
she went on slapping the paint on a box in vast content. Then Elsa flew
into a rage and laid hold of Nannie. I laid hold of her. And a dog in
the household, hearing our loud voices, bounded joyously into the fray.
And somehow Nannie tripped! The paint, the red, red paint made a ghastly
cascade over the snowy whiteness of the ogre's window frame. Stupefied
by the enormity of our mishap, we stood staring miserably at each other.
Elsa burst into tears. As for me, I could hear my heart thump.

"'He's coming back,' gasped Elsa, 'and papa ain't with him. I saw him
box a little girl's ears once jest for using his brush--let's run! Let's
_run_! He'll think it was Jumper!' (Jumper was wagging his tail and
affectionately sympathizing.)

"'Jumper didn't do it,' said Nannie.

"But Elsa was sprinting across the yard. My own terror seemed to clutch
me and propel me without volition; I was outside and hurrying after Elsa
before I realized. But at the sound of a dreadful, menacing voice I
turned my head. Nannie had not fled. She was facing the brutal man who
had boxed a little girl's ears; and he was demanding who had done
_That_! The rumble of thunder was in his deep tones. I ran back; but I
was in such a panic I had to hold on to the ben