Mr. Schofield indicated
that Roddy's condition was agitated, and that he was having a
great deal of difficulty in making his position clear.
Penrod's imagination paused outside the threshold of that room in
Mr. Ethelbert Magsworth Bitts' house, and awe fell upon him when
he thought of it. Roddy seemed to have disappeared within a
shrouding mist where Penrod's mind refused to follow him.
"Well, he got back his ole horn!" said Sam after school the next
afternoon. "I KNEW we had a perfect right to call him whatever we
wanted to! I bet you hated to give up that good ole horn,
Penrod."
But Penrod was serene. He was even a little superior.
"Pshaw!" he said. "I'm goin' to learn to play on sumpthing
better'n any ole horn. It's lots better, because you can carry it
around with you anywhere, and you couldn't a horn."
"What is it?" Sam asked, not too much pleased by Penrod's air of
superiority and high content. "You mean a jew's-harp?"
"I guess not! I mean a flute with all silver on it and
everything. My father's goin' to buy me one."
"I bet he isn't!"
"He is, too," said Penrod; "soon as I'm twenty-one years old.
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