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They went at it hand over fist, and in a few moments the blacking and whiting process was so complete that both were pronounced perfect transformations and all bets were off. Faces, hands and clothes were alike befloured and besooted, until Goodman was a veritable Blackamoor while Adam Goodsport looked like a Marcelline.
Bets were made on the two contestants before the betters knew what the scrap was to be. "It's a character sketch," Warble explained. "Mr. Goodsport tries to blacken Mr. Goodman's character, while the Rector tries to whiten Mr. Goodsport's character." Avery Goodman was then presented with a bag of flour and Adam Goodsport was handed a bag of soot.
Daisy Snow, timid little dear, made but a tiny daub and worked it up carefully. "That," she said, "is a miniature of Big Bill." All in all, it was gay sport, and even Mrs. Charity Givens took part, though she protested she was no artist and couldn't even draw a straight line. The next performance was a contest between Adam Goodsport and Avery Goodman.
Goldwin Leathersham, greatly interested, insisted on having his pedal interpreted. "Mount of Atalanta highly prominent," said Goodsport, "that means you are a runner, either for office or for pleasure. Here is a line meeting that indicates a railroad man. H'm. A well-developed football shows you have been to college. You seem to be inclined to solemates " But Leathersham had taken to his heels.
"Ouch," remarked Warble, "you tickle. Try somebody else," and she drew her feet under her. "Me," exclaimed Daisy Snow, coming over and holding out her dainty right foot. "H'm," said Goodsport. "This line running from the Mount of Cinderella to the heel is the clothes line and denotes love of dress. This line crossing it is the fish line and shows you are incapable of telling the truth."
"Now," said Warble, but before she could go further, Adam Goodsport butted in with: "Oh, please, Mrs. Petticoat oh, please! Such an opportunity! May never occur again! Oh, can't I may I not oh, dear lady, do say yes " "Lordy, what do you want to do? Speak out, man!" "Why, you see, I am a solist like a palmist you know but as to feet.
I studied solistry in Asia Minor and I know it from the ground up. Oh, please, Mrs. Petticoat, let me read your sole!" "Do," cried Warble, "love to have you." She plumped herself into a pillowed divan, and held her little pink feet straight out in front of her. Goodsport, sitting on a cushion at her feet, took one and scrutinized the sole.
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