"Pshaw!" said Sam. "Is that all you were goin' to do? Why, your mother'll come and make him get out the first--"
"No, she won't. She and Margaret have gone to my aunt's in the country, and aren't goin' to be back till dark. And even if he made a lot o' noise, it's kind of hard to hear anything from in there, anyway, when the door's shut. Besides, he's got to keep quiet--that's the rule, Verman. You're a pris'ner, and it's the rule you can't holler or nothin'. You unnerstand that, Verman?"
"Aw wi," said Verman.
"Then go on in there. Hurry!"
The obedient Verman marched into the closet and sat down among the shoes and slippers, where he presented an interesting effect of contrast. He was still subject to hilarity--though endeavouring to suppress it by means of a patent-leather slipper--when Penrod closed the door.
"There!" said Penrod, leading the way from the room. "I guess NOW you see!"
Sam said nothing, and they came out to the open air and reached their retreat in the Williams' yard again, without his having acknowledged Penrod's service to their mutual cause.
"I thought of that just as easy!" Penrod remarked, probably prompted to this odious bit of complacency by Sam's withholding the praise that might naturally have been expected. And he was moved to add, "I guess it'd of been a pretty long while if we'd had to wait for you to think of something as good as that, Sam."
"Why would it?" Sam asked. "Why would it of been such a long while?"
"Oh," Penrod responded airily, "just for the main and simple reason!"
Sam could bear it no longer. "Oh, hush up!" he shouted.
Penrod was stung. "Do you mean ME?" he demanded.
"Yes, I do!" the goaded Sam replied.
"Did you tell ME to hush up?"
"Yes, I did!"
"I guess you don't know who you're talkin' to," Penrod asid ominously. "I guess I just better show you who you're talkin' to like that. I guess you need a little sumpthing, for the main and simple--"
Sam uttered an uncontrollable howl and sprang upon Penrod, catching him round the waist. Simultaneously with this impact, the wooden swords spun through the air and were presently trodden underfoot as the two boys wrestled to and fro.
Penrod was not altogether surprised by the onset of his friend.
He had been aware of Sam's increasing irritation (though neither boy could have clearly stated its cause) and that very irritation produced a corresponding emotion in the bosom of the irritator.
Mentally, Penrod was quite ready for the conflict--nay, he welcomed it--though, for the first few moments, Sam had the physical advantage.
However, it is proper that a neat distinction be drawn here. This was a conflict; but neither technically nor in the intention of the contestants was it a fight. Penrod and Sam were both in a state of high exasperation, and there was great bitterness; but no blows fell and no tears. They strained, they wrenched, they twisted, and they panted and muttered: "Oh, no, you don't!" "Oh, I guess I do!" "Oh, you will, will you?" "You'll see what you get in about a minute!" "I guess you'll learn some sense this time!"
