For that matter, so had Sam's; they were
developing one of the little differences, or quarrels, that
composed the very texture of their friendship.
"Well, why don't you tell me, then?"
"Well, how can I?" Penrod demanded. "You keep talkin' every
minute."
"I'm not talkin' NOW, am I?" Sam protested. "You can tell me
NOW, can't you? I'm not talk--"
"You are, too!" Penrod shouted. "You talk all the time! You--"
He was interrupted by Whitey's peculiar cough. Both boys jumped
and forgot their argument.
"He means he wants some more to eat, I bet," said Sam.
"Well, if he does, he's got to wait," Penrod declared. "We got to
get the most important thing of all fixed up first."
"What's that, Penrod?"
"The reward," said Penrod mildly. "That's what I was tryin' to
tell you about, Sam, if you'd ever give me half a chance."
"Well, I DID give you a chance. I kept TELLIN' you to tell me,
but--"
"You never! You kept sayin'--"
They renewed this discussion, protracting it indefinitely; but as
each persisted in clinging to his own interpretation of the
facts, the question still remains unsettled.
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