"Oh, don't do that!" cried the Cotton Doll, in a whisper, of course.
"Don't open it! You'll get all black!"

"Oh, if it's black ink, I know what we can do!" said the Monkey. "We can
black up like colored minstrels, and have a little show in here by
ourselves. I'll black your face with the ink, and you can black mine,
though I am pretty brown now."

"But I don't want my face blacked with ink!" cried the Cotton Doll, as
the Monkey took the cork from the bottle. "I don't want to be a
minstrel!"

"Oh, but you must!" insisted the Monkey, laughing, and, catching hold of
the Cotton Doll in one hand, he tilted up the ink bottle in the other,
and dipped in the end of his tail.

"Now I'll paint you nice and black!" he laughed.

"Oh, don't! Please don't!" begged the Cotton Doll, as she tried to get
away from the Monkey. But she couldn't, for he held her tightly, and the
inky end of the tail was coming nearer and nearer to her face.




CHAPTER III

THE JANITOR'S HOUSE