Megaphones were constructed out of heavy wrapping-paper, and Penrod,
Sam, and Herman set out in different directions, delivering vocally
the inflammatory proclamation of the poster to a large section of the
residential quarter, and leaving Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, with
Verman in the loft, shielded from all deadhead eyes. Upon the return
of the heralds, the Schofield and Williams Military Band played
deafeningly, and an awakened public once more thronged to fill the
coffers of the firm.
Prosperity smiled again. The very first audience after the acquisition
of Roderick was larger than the largest of the morning. Master
Bitts--the only exhibit placed upon a box--was a supercurio. All eyes
fastened upon him and remained, hungrily feasting, throughout Penrod's
luminous oration.
But the glory of one light must ever be the dimming of another. We dwell
in a vale of seesaws--and cobwebs spin fastest upon laurel. Verman, the
tattooed wild boy, speaking only in his native foreign languages, Verman
the gay, Verman the caperer, capered no more; he chuckled no more, he
beckoned no more, nor tapped his chest, nor wreathed his idolatrous face
in smiles. Gone, all gone, were his little artifices for attracting the
general attention to himself; gone was every engaging mannerism which
had endeared him to the mercurial public. He squatted against the wall
and glowered at the new sensation. It was the old story--the old,
old story of too much temperament: Verman was suffering from artistic
jealousy.
The second audience contained a cash-paying adult, a spectacled young
man whose poignant attention was very flattering. He remained after the
lecture, and put a few questions to Roddy, which were answered rather
confusedly upon promptings from Penrod. The young man went away without
having stated the object of his interrogations, but it became quite
plain, later in the day. This same object caused the spectacled young
man to make several brief but stimulating calls directly after leaving
the Schofield and Williams Big Show, and the consequences thereof
loitered not by the wayside.
The Big Show was at high tide. Not only was the auditorium filled
and throbbing; there was an indubitable line--by no means wholly
juvenile--waiting for admission to the next pufformance. A group stood
in the street examining the poster earnestly as it glowed in the long,
slanting rays of the westward sun, and people in automobiles and other
vehicles had halted wheel in the street to read the message so piquantly
given to the world. These were the conditions when a crested victoria
arrived at a gallop, and a large, chastely magnificent and highly
flushed woman descended, and progressed across the yard with an air of
violence.
At sight of her, the adults of the waiting line hastily disappeared,
and most of the pausing vehicles moved instantly on their way. She was
followed by a stricken man in livery.
The stairs to the auditorium were narrow and steep; Mrs. Roderick
Magsworth Bitts was of a stout favour; and the voice of Penrod was
audible during the ascent.
“RE-MEM-BUR, gentilmun and lay-deeze, each and all are now gazing upon
Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, the only living nephew of the great
Rena Magsworth. She stuck ars'nic in the milk of eight separate and
distinck people to put in their coffee and each and all of 'em died. The
great ars'nic murderess, Rena Magsworth, gentilmun and lay-deeze,
and Roddy's her only living nephew. She's a relation of all the Bitts
family, but he's her one and only living nephew. RE-MEM-BUR! Next July
she's goin' to be hung, and, each and all, you now see before you----”
Penrod paused abruptly, seeing something before himself--the august and
awful presence which filled the entryway. And his words (it should be
related) froze upon his lips.
Before HERSELF, Mrs. Roderick Magsworth Bitts saw her son--her
scion--wearing a moustache and sideburns of blue, and perched upon a box
flanked by Sherman and Verman, the Michigan rats, the Indian dog Duke,
Herman, and the dog part alligator.
Roddy, also, saw something before himself. It needed no prophet to
read the countenance of the dread apparition in the entryway. His mouth
opened--remained open--then filled to capacity with a calamitous sound
of grief not unmingled with apprehension.
Penrod's reason staggered under the crisis. For a horrible moment he saw
Mrs. Roderick Magsworth Bitts approaching like some fatal mountain in
avalanche. She seemed to grow larger and redder; lightnings played about
her head; he had a vague consciousness of the audience spraying out
in flight, of the squealings, tramplings and dispersals of a stricken
field. The mountain was close upon him----
He stood by the open mouth of the hay-chute which went through the floor
to the manger below. Penrod also went through the floor. He propelled
himself into the chute and shot down, but not quite to the manger, for
Mr. Samuel Williams had thoughtfully stepped into the chute a moment in
advance of his partner. Penrod lit upon Sam.
Catastrophic noises resounded in the loft; volcanoes seemed to romp upon
the stairway.
There ensued a period when only a shrill keening marked the passing of
Roderick as he was borne to the tumbril. Then all was silence.
. . . Sunset, striking through a western window, rouged the walls of
the Schofields' library, where gathered a joint family council and
court martial of four--Mrs. Schofield, Mr. Schofield, and Mr. and Mrs.
Williams, parents of Samuel of that ilk. Mr. Williams read aloud a
conspicuous passage from the last edition of the evening paper:
“Prominent people here believed close relations of woman sentenced to
hang. Angry denial by Mrs. R. Magsworth Bitts. Relationship admitted by
younger member of family. His statement confirmed by boy-friends----”
“Don't!” said Mrs. Williams, addressing her husband vehemently. “We've
all read it a dozen times. We've got plenty of trouble on our hands
without hearing THAT again!”
Singularly enough, Mrs. Williams did not look troubled; she looked as
if she were trying to look troubled. Mrs. Schofield wore a similar
expression. So did Mr. Schofield. So did Mr. Williams.
“What did she say when she called YOU up?” Mrs. Schofield inquired
breathlessly of Mrs. Williams.
“She could hardly speak at first, and then when she did talk, she talked
so fast I couldn't understand most of it, and----”
“It was just the same when she tried to talk to me,” said Mrs.
Schofield, nodding.
“I never did hear any one in such a state before,” continued Mrs.
Williams. “So furious----”
“Quite justly, of course,” said Mrs. Schofield.
“Of course. And she said Penrod and Sam had enticed Roderick away from
home--usually he's not allowed to go outside the yard except with his
tutor or a servant--and had told him to say that horrible creature was
his aunt----”
“How in the world do you suppose Sam and Penrod ever thought of such
a thing as THAT!” exclaimed Mrs. Schofield. “It must have been made up
just for their 'show.' Della says there were just STREAMS going in and
out all day. Of course it wouldn't have happened, but this was the day
Margaret and I spend every month in the country with Aunt Sarah, and I
didn't DREAM----”
“She said one thing I thought rather tactless,” interrupted Mrs.
Williams. “Of course we must allow for her being dreadfully excited and
wrought up, but I do think it wasn't quite delicate in her, and she's
usually the very soul of delicacy. She said that Roderick had NEVER been
allowed to associate with--common boys----”
“Meaning Sam and Penrod,” said Mrs. Schofield. “Yes, she said that to
me, too.”
“She said that the most awful thing about it,” Mrs. Williams went on,
“was that, though she's going to prosecute the newspapers, many people
would always believe the story, and----”
“Yes, I imagine they will,” said Mrs. Schofield musingly. “Of course you
and I and everybody who really knows the Bitts and Magsworth families
understand the perfect absurdity of it; but I suppose there are ever so
many who'll believe it, no matter what the Bittses and Magsworths say.”
“Hundreds and hundreds!” said Mrs. Williams. “I'm afraid it will be a
great come-down for them.”
“I'm afraid so,” said Mrs. Schofield gently. “A very great one--yes, a
very, very great one.”
“Well,” observed Mrs. Williams, after a thoughtful pause, “there's only
one thing to be done, and I suppose it had better be done right away.”
She glanced toward the two gentlemen.
“Certainly,” Mr. Schofield agreed. “But where ARE they?”
“Have you looked in the stable?” asked his wife.
“I searched it. They've probably started for the far West.”
“Did you look in the sawdust-box?”
“No, I didn't.”
“Then that's where they are.”
Thus, in the early twilight, the now historic stable was approached by
two fathers charged to do the only thing to be done. They entered the
storeroom.
“Penrod!” said Mr. Schofield.
“Sam!” said Mr. Williams.
Nothing disturbed the twilight hush.
But by means of a ladder, brought from the carriage-house, Mr. Schofield
mounted to the top of the sawdust-box. He looked within, and discerned
the dim outlines of three quiet figures, the third being that of a small
dog.
The two boys rose, upon command, descended the ladder after Mr.
Schofield, bringing Duke with them, and stood before the authors of
their being, who bent upon them sinister and threatening brows. With
hanging heads and despondent countenances, each still ornamented with a
moustache and an imperial, Penrod and Sam awaited sentence.
This is a boy's lot: anything he does, anything whatever, may afterward
turn out to have been a crime--he never knows.
And punishment and clemency are alike inexplicable.
Mr. Williams took his son by the ear.
“You march home!” he commanded.
Sam marched, not looking back, and his father followed the small figure
implacably.
“You goin' to whip me?” quavered Penrod, alone with Justice.
“Wash your face at that hydrant,” said his father sternly.
About fifteen minutes later, Penrod, hurriedly entering the corner drug
store, two blocks distant, was astonished to perceive a familiar form at
the soda counter.
“Yay, Penrod,” said Sam Williams. “Want some sody? Come on. He didn't
lick me. He didn't do anything to me at all. He gave me a quarter.”
“So'd mine,” said Penrod.