"Yes, sir." And Penrod added reproachfully, placing the blame
upon members of Mr. Schofield's own class, "Sam's mother and
father kept me, or I'd been home long ago. They would keep on
talkin', and I guess I had to be POLITE, didn't I?"
His left arm was as free as his right; there was no dreadful bulk
beneath his jacket, and at Penrod's age the future is too far
away to be worried about the difference between temporary
security and permanent security is left for grown people. To
Penrod, security was security, and before his dinner was half
eaten his spirit had become fairly serene.
Nevertheless, when he entered the empty carriage-house of the
stable, on his return from school the next afternoon, his
expression was not altogether without apprehension, and he stood
in the doorway looking well about him before he lifted a loosened
plank in the flooring and took from beneath it the grand old
weapon of the Williams family. Not did his eye lighten with any
pleasurable excitement as he sat himself down in a shadowy corner
and began some sketchy experiments with the mechanism.
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