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Updated: July 28, 2025
I expect he wants more to eat." "Well, we got to fix about that," said Penrod. "But what I mean if I'd had to stay in the house, where would we been about the most important thing in the whole biz'nuss?" "What you talkin' about?" "Well, why can't you wait till I tell you?" Penrod's tone had become peevish.
This was not improvisation but formula, adapted from other occasions to the present encounter; nevertheless, it was new to Penrod, and he was so taken with it that resentment lost itself in admiration. Hastily committing the gem to memory for use upon a dog-owning friend, he inquired in a sociable tone: "What's your dog's name?" "Dan. You better call your ole pup, 'cause Dan eats LIVE dogs."
The effect was immense and instant. Penrod sprang to his feet. "Georgie Bassett couldn't do that to save his life," he declared. "I'm goin' to be a preacher! I'D be all right for one, wouldn't I, Herman?" "So am I!" Sam Williams echoed loudly. "I guess I can do it if YOU can. I'd be better'n Penrod, wouldn't I, Herman?" "I am, too!" Maurice shouted.
"She'll be down in a minute, and Penrod's around somewhere." "Penrod?" Mr. Gilling repeated curiously, in his nervous, serious way. "What is Penrod?" And at this, Mrs. Schofield joined in her husband's laughter. Mr. Schofield explained. "Penrod's our young son," he said. "He's not much for looks, maybe; but he's been pretty good lately, and sometimes we're almost inclined to be proud of him.
Sam rose and joined his friend in the doorway opening upon the two stalls. Whitey had preëmpted the nearer, and was hungrily nuzzling the old frayed hollows in the manger. "May be a hundred dollars or sumpthing?" Sam asked in a low voice. Penrod maintained his composure and repeated the new-found expression which had sounded well to him a moment before.
And Penrod thought he was going to die, and he said you gave it to him, and oh! it was just pitiful to hear the poor child, Bob, because he thought he was dying, you see, and he blamed you for the whole thing. He said if you'd only let him alone and not given it to him, he'd have grown up to be a good man and now he couldn't!
"We wanted it all to be nice, because you said we had to have him, papa, and after lunch Penrod went to guard him that's a new part in the rixual and he brought him over, and we took him out to the shack and blindfolded him, and well, he got kind of mad because we wanted him to lay down on his stummick and be tied up, and he said he wouldn't, because the floor was a little bit wet in there and he could feel it sort of squashy under his shoes, and he said his mother didn't want him ever to get dirty and he just wouldn't do it; and we all kept telling him he had to, or else how could there be any 'nishiation; and he kept gettin' madder and said he wanted to have the 'nishiation outdoors where it wasn't wet and he wasn't goin' to lay down on his stummick, anyway."
Within ten minutes the few last scattering semblances of gayety had passed, and they lapsed into the longest and most profound of all their silences indoors that day. Its effect upon Penrod was to make him yawn and settle himself in his chair. Then Mr. Blakely, coming to the surface out of deep inward communings, snapped his finger against the palm of his hand impulsively.
"You talk about being a show all by yourself; what could you try to do? Show us sumpthing you can do." "I didn't say I was going to DO anything," returned the badgered one, still evading. "Well, then, how'd you BE a show?" Penrod demanded. "WE got a show here, even if Herman didn't point or Verman didn't talk. Their father stabbed a man with a pitchfork, I guess, didn't he?" "How do I know?"
Schofield, returning at five o'clock from the cares of the day, found the house deserted, and sat down to read his evening paper in what appeared to be an uninhabited apartment known to its own world as the "drawing-room." A sneeze, unexpected both to him and the owner, informed him of the presence of another person. "Where are you, Penrod?" the parent asked, looking about.
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