"A painter," sez 'e. "A
painter, air you? you don't look it," sez I. "P'raps it's holiday
time with ye," sez I, "and that makes you look so varnishy. Well,
and what do painters more nor any other trade want with pore women's
pootty darters?" sez I,--"more nor plumbers nor glaziers, nor
bricklayers, for the matter of that?" sez I. "But I ain't a
'ousepainter," sez 'e; "I paints picturs, and I want this gal to set
as a moral," sez 'e. "A moral! an' what's a moral?" sez I. "You ain't
a-goin' to play none o' your shiny-coat larks wi' my pootty darter,"
sez I. "I wants to paint her portrait," sez 'e, "an' then put it in a
pictur." "Oh," sez I, "you wants to paint her portrait 'cause she's
such a pootty gal, an' then you wants to make believe you drawed it
out of your own 'ead, an' sell it," sez I. "Oh, but you're a downy
one, you are, an' no mistake," sez I. "But I likes you none the wuss
for that. I likes a downy chap, an' I don't see no objection to that;
but how much will you give to paint my pootty darter?" sez I. "P'raps
I'd better come in," sez he.
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