And the
last thing he said was that he was sure Penrod and Sam each would
be awarded one at the meeting of the society next Thursday
night."
. . . On the following Saturday a yodel sounded from the sunny
sidewalk in front of the Schofields' house, and Penrod, issuing
forth, beheld the familiar figure of Samuel Williams waiting.
Upon Sam's breast there glittered a round bit of silver suspended
by a white ribbon from a bar of the same metal. Upon the breast
of Penrod was a decoration precisely similar.
"'Lo, Penrod," said Sam. "What are you goin' to do?"
"Nothin'"
"I got mine on," said Sam.
"I have, too," said Penrod. "I wouldn't take a hunderd dollars
for mine."
"I wouldn't take two hunderd for mine," said Sam.
Each glanced pleasantly at the other's medal. They faced each
other without shame. Neither had the slightest sense of hypocrisy
in himself or in his comrade. On the contrary!
Penrod's eyes went from Sam's medal back to his own; thence they
wandered, with perhaps a little disappointment, to the lifeless
street and to the empty yards and spectatorless windows of the
neighbourhood.
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