So, the daily food of his
imagination being gun, what wonder that he thirsted for the Real!
He passed from the sidewalk into his own yard, with a subdued
"Bing!" inflicted upon the stolid person of a gatepost, and,
entering the house through the kitchen, ceased to bing for a
time. However, driven back from the fore part of the house by a
dismal sound of callers, he returned to the kitchen and sat down.
"Della," he said to the cook, "do you know what I'd do if you was
a crook and I had my ottomatic with me?"
Della was industrious and preoccupied. "If I was a cook!" she
repeated ignorantly, and with no cordiality. "Well, I AM a cook.
I'm a-cookin' right now. Either g'wan in the house where
y'b'long, or git out in th' yard!"
Penrod chose the latter, and betook himself slowly to the back
fence, where he was greeted in a boisterous manner by his wistful
little old dog, Duke, returning from some affair of his own in
the alley.
"Get down!" said Penrod coldly, and bestowed a spiritless "Bing!"
upon him.
At this moment a shout was heard from the alley, "Yay, Penrod!"
and the sandy head of comrade Sam Williams appeared above the
fence.
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