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She led the way to her "sitting-room," which had a pleasant smell, unlike any other smell, and, opening the drawer of a shining old what-not, took therefrom a boy's "sling-shot," made of a forked stick, two strips of rubber and a bit of leather. "This isn't for you," she said, placing it in Penrod's eager hand. "No.
There is one way only one to deal with him; but Robert Williams, having a brother of Penrod's age, understood that way. Robert had one dollar in the world. He gave it to Penrod immediately. Enslaved forever, the new Rockefeller rose and went forth upon the highway, an overflowing heart bursting the floodgates of song. "In her eyes the light of love was soffly gleamun', So sweetlay, So neatlay.
His mother looked down solicitously, murmured in a melancholy undertone, shook her head; then disappeared from the window, and, after a moment or two, opened the front door. "Come in, dear," she said; "I've got something for you." Penrod's look of preoccupation vanished; he brightened and ceased to croak.
"It's not much like a children's party in our day," Mrs. Williams said to Penrod's mother. "We'd have been playing 'Quaker-meeting, 'Clap-in, Clap-out, or 'Going to Jerusalem, I suppose." "Yes, or 'Post-office' and 'Drop-the-handkerchief," said Mrs. Schofield. "Things change so quickly.
Penrod's heart grew cold. "I CAN'T stay in," he protested. "I've asked Sam Williams to come over." "I'll telephone Mrs. Williams." "Mamma!" Penrod's voice became agonized. "I HAD to give that bread to a to a poor ole man. He was starving and so were his children and his wife. They were all just STARVING and they couldn't wait while I took time to come and ask you, Mamma.
The fat-faced boy still appeared embittered, burlesquing this speech in a hateful falsetto. "'Rupe Collins is YOUR name, then, I guess! Oh, you 'kind of thought it was, all the time, did you?" Suddenly concentrating his brow into a histrionic scowl he thrust his face within an inch of Penrod's.
Most people have suffered in a dream the experience of finding themselves very inadequately clad in the midst of a crowd of well-dressed people, and such dreamers' sensations are comparable to Penrod's, though faintly, because Penrod was awake and in much too full possession of the most active capacities for anguish.
It was perhaps some test of this dance that earth could furnish no more grotesque sight than that of children doing it. Earth, assisted by Fanchon, was furnishing this sight at Penrod's party.
Samuel Williams, waxen clean and in sweet raiment, made his reappearance in Penrod's yard, yodelling a code-signal to summon forth his friend. He yodelled loud, long, and frequently, finally securing a faint response from the upper air. "Where are you?" shouted Mr. Williams, his roving glance searching ambient heights.
But the barber did not begin it; it was the fly on the barber's nose that began it though, of course, something else began the fly. Somehow, we never manage to hang the real offender. The end came only with the arrival of Penrod's mother, who had been having a painful conversation by telephone with Mrs. Jones, the mother of Marjorie, and came forth to seek an errant son.
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