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Updated: July 28, 2025
He has, too, a keen sense of the humorous. This naturalness and this sense of humor may be noticed readily in the story, "A Reward of Merit" selected from Penrod and Sam. The books, Penrod, Penrod and Sam, and Seventeen are studies of the human boy, presented in a series of chapters that read like so many short stories. A Reward of Merit Obedient to inherited impulse.
They were so deep in the person of Penrod they came almost from the slowly convalescing profundities of his stomach. These words concerned firearms, and they were: "Wish I'd never seen one! Never want to see one again!"
The surprising thing about a structure such as Penrod was erecting is that the taller it becomes the more ornamentation it will stand. Gifted boys have this faculty of building magnificence upon cobwebs and Penrod was gifted.
He shivered and grumbled, and, by his passionate urgings, compelled Penrod to go into the house so many times to see what time it was by the kitchen clock that both his companions almost lost patience with him. "There!" said Penrod, returning from performing this errand for the fourth time.
"That's the way we do up at the Third," became staple explanation of violence, for Penrod, like Tartarin, was plastic in the hands of his own imagination, and at times convinced himself that he really was one of those dark and murderous spirits exclusively of whom "the Third" was composed according to Rupe Collins.
Bassett, whose household I indeed really feel it quite impossible to visit until such time when better, firmer, stronger handed, more determined discipline shall prevail. I find Mr. and Mrs. Schofield and their daughter charming " Three or four ladies said "Oh!" and spoke a name simultaneously. It was as if they had said, "Oh, the bubonic plague!" "Oh! Penrod Schofield!"
We'll make spears for our good ole beaters, too, and I'm goin' to make me a camera out o' that little starch-box and a bakin'-powder can that's goin' to be a mighty good ole camera. We can do lots more things " "Yay!" Sam cried. "Let's get started!" He paused. "Wait a minute, Penrod. Verman says he won't " "Well, he's got to!" said Penrod. "I momp!" Verman insisted, almost distinctly.
That's just as good as callin' me a liar, isn't it?" "No," said Sam; "but I got a right to, if I want to. Haven't I, Penrod?" "How?" Roddy demanded hotly. "How you got a right to?" "Because you can't prove what you said." "Well," said Roddy, "you'd be just as much of one if you can't prove what I said WASN'T true." "No, sir! You either got to prove it or be a liar. Isn't that so, Penrod.
He did go home but only subsequently. What took place before his departure had the singular solidity and completeness of systematic violence; also, it bore the moral beauty of all actions that lead to peace and friendship, for, when it was over, and the final vocalizations of Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, were growing faint with increasing distance, Sam and Penrod had forgotten their differences and felt well disposed toward each other once more.
My father said it's goin' to be a three days' rain." "Well, nobody with any sense cares if it rains Sunday and Monday," Penrod said. "I wouldn't care if it rained every Sunday as long I lived; but I just like to know what's the reason it had to go and rain to-day. Got all the days o' the week to choose from and goes and picks on Saturday. That's a fine biz'nuss!"
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