"Why didn't you tell me you could paint like that?" She turned upon him
fiercely. "Here you've sat and looked on at me daubing things up--and if
I'd known you could do better than--" Looking again at the canvas she
forgot to finish. The fascination of it held her.

"I'm not in the habit of going around the country shouting what I don't
know," said Chip, defensively. "You've taken heaps of lessons, and I
never did. I just noticed the color of everything, and--oh, I don't know--
it's in me to do those things. I can't help trying to paint and draw."

"I suppose old Von Heim would have something to say of your way of doing
clouds--but you got the effect, though--better than he did, sometimes.
And that cow--I can see her breathe, I tell you! And the wolves--oh,
don't sit there and smoke your everlasting cigarettes and look so
stoical over it! What are you made of, anyway? Can't you feel proud?
Oh, don't you know what you've done? I--I'd like to shake you--so now!"

"Well, I don't much blame you. I knew I'd no business to meddle.
Maybe, if you'll touch it up a little--"

"I'll not touch a brush to THAT. I--I'm afraid I might kill the cow."
She gave a little, hysterical laugh.

"Don't you think you're rather excitable--for a doctor?" scoffed Chip,
and her chin went up for a minute.

"I'd like t' kill them wolves," said Johnny, coming in just then.

"Turn the thing around, kid, so I can see it," commanded Chip, suddenly.