The emotion that prompted this
impulse was so primitive and straightforward that it almost
resulted in action; but Sam had a vague sense that he must
control it as long as he could.
"Bugs!" he said.
Penrod was sensitive, and this cold word hurt him. However, he
was under the domination of his strategic idea, and he
subordinated private grievance to the common weal. "Get up!" he
commanded. "You get up, too, Verman. You got to--it's the rule.
Now here I'll SHOW you what we're goin' to do. Stoop over, and
both o' you do just exackly like _I_ do. You watch ME, because
this biz'nuss has got to be done RIGHT!"
Sam muttered something; he was becoming more insurgent every
moment, but he obeyed. Likewise, Verman rose to his feet, ducked
his head between his shoulders, and trotted out to the sidewalk
at Sam's heels, both following Penrod and assuming a stooping
position in imitation of him. Verman was delighted with this
phase of the game, and, also, he was profoundly amused by
Penrod's pomposity. Something dim and deep within him perceived
it to be cause for such merriment that he had ado to master
himself, and was forced to bottle and cork his laughter with both
hands.
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