"What you think I want!" retorted Fanning. "Yore gran'mother's aunt? You brew us a quart of coffee apiece, and brew it my way. I been bit by a snake."
"I don't want none of that paint," objected George, surprised.
"Who said you did?" snapped Fanning. "Who cares what you want? Nelson an' I'll handle that. Jump lively or I'll shoot down th' stairs."
"Shoot, if you wants. They don't belong to me. You can shoot down th' house, if you wants!" George slammed the door with vim. "'Bit by a snake!' Bet it was a hydrophoby skunk. I'll brew him some coffee that'll stunt his growth, blast him!"
After breakfast, during which his companion found fault three times with everything in sight, Johnny wandered around and dropped in to see Jerry Poole, the harness-maker. Jerry's mouth tasted of burnt leather and alum from his night's indiscretions and he was so unendurably ugly that his visitor, twiddling his fingers at him, dodged a chunk of wax and departed, going into Dailey's.
"Hello, yoreself!" growled Dailey. He fumbled a ball of cord, dropped it, and kicked it through a window. "Now look what you done!" he yelled.
Johnny wheeled, slammed the door, and wandered to the Palace. Peering in, he assayed a test of Dave's hospitality.
"How do you feel?" he asked, loudly. "You was goin' too fast with th' juniper."
Dave straightened up, glared at him for a moment and found a more comfortable position. "You can go to Juniper, or h—l, for all I care!" he grunted, and went off to sleep again.
Johnny leaned against the wall in momentary indecision. Hearing shuffling steps, he looked up to see Two-Spot rounding the corner. His face brightened. Here was someone with whom he could talk.