Penrod and Sam

by Booth Tarkington

  CHAPTER VI. GEORGIE BECOMES A MEMBER

  But Georgie did. It is difficult to imagine how cause and effect couldbe more closely and patently related. Inevitably, Georgie did comepoking around. How was he to refrain when daily, up and down theneighbourhood, the brothers strutted with mystic and important airs,when they whispered together and uttered words of strange import in hispresence? Thus did they defeat their own object. They desired to keepGeorgie at a distance, yet they could not refrain from posing beforehim. They wished to impress upon him the fact that he was an outsider,and they but succeeded in rousing his desire to be an insider, a desirethat soon became a determination. For few were the days until he notonly knew of the shack but had actually paid it a visit. That was upon amorning when the other boys were in school, Georgie having found himselfindisposed until about ten o'clock, when he was able to take nourishmentand subsequently to interest himself in this rather private errand.He climbed the Williams' alley fence, and, having made a modestinvestigation of the exterior of the shack, which was padlocked, retiredwithout having disturbed anything except his own peace of mind. Hiscuriosity, merely piqued before, now became ravenous and painful. It wasnot allayed by the mystic manners of the members or by the unnecessaryemphasis they laid upon their coldness toward himself; and when acommittee informed him darkly that there were "secret orders" to preventhis coming within "a hundred and sixteen feet"--such was Penrod'sarbitrary language--of the Williams' yard, "in any direction", Georgiecould bear it no longer, but entered his own house, and, in burningwords, laid the case before a woman higher up. Here the responsibilityfor things is directly traceable to grown people. Within that hour, Mrs.Bassett sat in Mrs. Williams's library to address her hostess upon thesubject of Georgie's grievance.

  "Of course, it isn't Sam's fault," she said, concluding herinterpretation of the affair. "Georgie likes Sam, and didn't blamehim at all. No; we both felt that Sam would always be a polite, niceboy--Georgie used those very words--but Penrod seems to have a VERY badinfluence. Georgie felt that Sam would WANT him to come and play inthe shack if Penrod didn't make Sam do everything HE wants. What hurtGeorgie most is that it's SAM'S shack, and he felt for another boy tocome and tell him that he mustn't even go NEAR it--well, of course, itwas very trying. And he's very much hurt with little Maurice Levy, too.He said that he was sure that even Penrod would be glad to have him fora member of their little club if it weren't for Maurice--and I think hespoke of Roddy Bitts, too."

  The fact that the two remaining members were coloured was omittedfrom this discourse which leads to the deduction that Georgie had notmentioned it.

  "Georgie said all the other boys liked him very much," Mrs. Bassettcontinued, "and that he felt it his duty to join the club, because mostof them were so anxious to have him, and he is sure he would have a goodinfluence over them. He really did speak of it in quite a touching way,Mrs. Williams. Of course, we mothers mustn't brag of our sons too much,but Georgie REALLY isn't like other boys. He is so sensitive, you can'tthink how this little affair has hurt him, and I felt that it might evenmake him ill. You see, I HAD to respect his reason for wanting tojoin the club. And if I AM his mother"--she gave a deprecating littlelaugh--"I must say that it seems noble to want to join not really forhis own sake but for the good that he felt his influence would have overthe other boys. Don't you think so, Mrs. Williams?"

  Mrs. Williams said that she did, indeed. And the result of thisinterview was another, which took place between Sam and his father thatevening, for Mrs. Williams, after talking to Sam herself, felt that thematter needed a man to deal with it. The man did it man-fashion.

  "You either invite Georgie Bassett to play in the shack all he wantsto," the man said, "or the shack comes down."

  "But--"

  "Take your choice. I'm not going to have neighbourhood quarrels oversuch--"

  "But, Papa--"

  "That's enough! You said yourself you haven't anything against Georgie."

  "I said--"

  "You said you didn't like him, but you couldn't tell why. You couldn'tstate a single instance of bad behaviour against him. You couldn'tmention anything he ever did which wasn't what a gentleman should havedone. It's no use, I tell you. Either you invite Georgie to play in theshack as much as he likes next Saturday, or the shack comes down."

  "But, PAPA--"

  "I'm not going to talk any more about it. If you want the shack pulleddown and hauled away, you and your friends continue to tantalize thisinoffensive little boy the way you have been. If you want to keep it, bepolite and invite him in."

  "But--"

  "That's ALL, I said!"

  Sam was crushed.

  Next day he communicated the bitter substance of the edict to the othermembers, and gloom became unanimous. So serious an aspect did the affairpresent that it was felt necessary to call a special meeting of theorder after school. The entire membership was in attendance; the doorwas closed, the window covered with a board, and the candle lighted.Then all of the brothers--except one--began to express their sorrowfulapprehensions. The whole thing was spoiled, they agreed, if GeorgieBassett had to be taken in. On the other hand, if they didn't take himin, "there wouldn't be anything left." The one brother who failed toexpress any opinion was little Verman. He was otherwise occupied.

  Verman had been the official paddler during the initiations of RoddyBitts and Maurice Levy; his work had been conscientious, and it seemedto be taken by consent that he was to continue in office. An old shinglefrom the woodshed roof had been used for the exercise of his function inthe cases of Roddy and Maurice; but this afternoon he had broughtwith him a new one that he had picked up somewhere. It was broader andthicker than the old one and, during the melancholy prophecies of hisfellows, he whittled the lesser end of it to the likeness of a handle.Thus engaged, he bore no appearance of despondency; on the contrary, hiseyes, shining brightly in the candlelight, indicated that eager thoughtspossessed him, while from time to time the sound of a chuckle issuedfrom his simple African throat. Gradually the other brothers began tonotice his preoccupation, and one by one they fell silent, regarding himthoughtfully. Slowly the darkness of their countenances lifted a little;something happier and brighter began to glimmer from each boyish face.All eyes remained fascinated upon Verman.

  "Well, anyway," said Penrod, in a tone that was almost cheerful, "thisis only Tuesday. We got pretty near all week to fix up the 'nishiationfor Saturday."

  And Saturday brought sunshine to make the occasion more tolerable forboth the candidate and the society. Mrs. Williams, going to the windowto watch Sam when he left the house after lunch, marked with pleasurethat his look and manner were sprightly as he skipped down the walk tothe front gate. There he paused and yodelled for a time. An answeringyodel came presently; Penrod Schofield appeared, and by his side walkedGeorgie Bassett. Georgie was always neat; but Mrs. Williams noticed thathe exhibited unusual gloss and polish to-day. As for his expression,it was a shade too complacent under the circumstances, though, for thatmatter, perfect tact avoids an air of triumph under any circumstances.Mrs. Williams was pleased to observe that Sam and Penrod betrayed noresentment whatever; they seemed to have accepted defeat in a goodspirit and to be inclined to make the best of Georgie. Indeed, theyappeared to be genuinely excited about him--it was evident that theircordiality was eager and wholehearted.

  The three boys conferred for a few moments; then Sam disappeared roundthe house and returned, waving his hand and nodding. Upon that, Penrodtook Georgie's left arm, Sam took his right, and the three marched offto the backyard in a companionable way that made Mrs. Williams feel ithad been an excellent thing to interfere a little in Georgie's interest.

  Experiencing the benevolent warmth that comes of assisting in a goodaction, she ascended to an apartment upstairs, and, for a couple ofhours, employed herself with needle and thread in sartorial repairs onbehalf of her husband and Sam. Then she was interrupted by the advent ofa coloured serving-maid.

  "Miz Williams, I reckon the house
goin' fall down!" this pessimist said,arriving out of breath. "That s'iety o' Mist' Sam's suttenly tryin' topull the roof down on ow haids!"

  "The roof?" Mrs. Williams inquired mildly. "They aren't in the attic,are they?"

  "No'm; they in the celluh, but they REACHIN' fer the roof! I nev'did hear no sech a rumpus an' squawkin' an' squawlin' an' fallin' an'whoopin' an' whackin' an' bangin'! They troop down by the outside celluhdo', n'en--bang!--they bus' loose, an' been goin' on ev' since, wuss'nBedlun! Ef they anything down celluh ain' broke by this time, it cain'be only jes' the foundashum, an' I bet THAT ain' goin' stan' muchlonger! I'd gone down an' stop 'em, but I'm 'fraid to. Hones', MizWilliams, I'm 'fraid o' my life go down there, all that Bedlun goin' on.I thought I come see what you say."

  Mrs. Williams laughed.

  "We have to stand a little noise in the house sometimes, Fanny, whenthere are boys. They're just playing, and a lot of noise is usually apretty safe sign."

  "Yes'm," Fanny said. "It's yo' house, Miz Williams, not mine. You want'em tear it down, I'm willin'."

  She departed, and Mrs. Williams continued to sew. The days were growingshort, and at five o'clock she was obliged to put the work aside, as hereyes did not permit her to continue it by artificial light. Descendingto the lower floor, she found the house silent, and when she opened thefront door to see if the evening paper had come, she beheld Sam, Penrodand Maurice Levy standing near the gate engaged in quiet conversation.Penrod and Maurice departed while she was looking for the paper, and Samcame thoughtfully up the walk.

  "Well, Sam," she said, "it wasn't such a bad thing, after all, to show alittle politeness to Georgie Bassett, was it?"

  Sam gave her a non-committal look--expression of every kind had beenwiped from his countenance. He presented a blank surface.

  "No'm," he said meekly.

  "Everything was just a little pleasanter because you'd been friendly,wasn't it?"

  "Yes'm."

  "Has Georgie gone home?"

  "Yes'm."

  "I hear you made enough noise in the cellar--Did Georgie have a goodtime?"

  "Ma'am?"

  "Did Georgie Bassett have a good time?"

  "Well"--Sam now had the air of a person trying to remember details withabsolute accuracy--"well, he didn't say he did, and he didn't say hedidn't."

  "Didn't he thank the boys?"

  "No'm."

  "Didn't he even thank you?"

  "No'm."

  "Why, that's queer," she said. "He's always so polite. He SEEMED to behaving a good time, didn't he, Sam?"

  "Ma'am?"

  "Didn't Georgie seem to be enjoying himself?"

  This question, apparently so simple, was not answered with promptness.Sam looked at his mother in a puzzled way, and then he found itnecessary to rub each of his shins in turn with the palm of his righthand.

  "I stumbled," he said apologetically. "I stumbled on the cellar steps."

  "Did you hurt yourself?" she asked quickly.

  "No'm; but I guess maybe I better rub some arnica--"

  "I'll get it," she said. "Come up to your father's bathroom, Sam. Doesit hurt much?"

  "No'm," he answered truthfully, "it hardly hurts at all."

  And having followed her to the bathroom, he insisted, with unusualgentleness, that he be left to apply the arnica to the alleged injurieshimself. He was so persuasive that she yielded, and descended to thelibrary, where she found her husband once more at home after his day'swork.

  "Well?" he said. "Did Georgie show up, and were they decent to him?"

  "Oh, yes; it's all right. Sam and Penrod were good as gold. I saw thembeing actually cordial to him."

  "That's well," Mr. Williams said, settling into a chair with his paper."I was a little apprehensive, but I suppose I was mistaken. I walkedhome, and just now, as I passed Mrs. Bassett's, I saw Doctor Venny'scar in front, and that barber from the corner shop on Second Street wasgoing in the door. I couldn't think what a widow would need a barberand a doctor for--especially at the same time. I couldn't think whatGeorgie'd need such a combination for either, and then I got afraid thatmaybe--"

  Mrs. Williams laughed. "Oh, no; it hasn't anything to do with his havingbeen over here. I'm sure they were very nice to him."

  "Well, I'm glad of that."

  "Yes, indeed--" Mrs. Williams began, when Fanny appeared, summoning herto the telephone.

  It is pathetically true that Mrs. Williams went to the telephone humminga little song. She was detained at the instrument not more than fiveminutes; then she made a plunging return into the library, a blanchedand stricken woman. She made strange, sinister gestures at her husband.

  He sprang up, miserably prophetic. "Mrs. Bassett?"

  "Go to the telephone," Mrs. Williams said hoarsely "She wants to talkto you, too. She CAN'T talk much--she's hysterical. She says they luredGeorgie into the cellar and had him beaten by negroes! That's not all--"

  Mr. Williams was already on his way.

  "You find Sam!" he commanded, over his shoulder.

  Mrs. Williams stepped into the front hall. "Sam!" she called, addressingthe upper reaches of the stairway. "Sam!"

  Not even echo answered.

  "SAM!"

  A faint clearing of somebody's throat was heard behind her, a sound somodest and unobtrusive it was no more than just audible, and, turning,the mother beheld her son sitting upon the floor in the shadow of thestairs and gazing meditatively at the hatrack. His manner indicated thathe wished to produce the impression that he had been sitting there, inthis somewhat unusual place and occupation, for a considerable time, butwithout overhearing anything that went on in the library so close by.

  "Sam," she cried, "what have you DONE?"

  "Well--I guess my legs are all right," he said gently. "I got the arnicaon, so probably they won't hurt any m--"

  "Stand up!" she said.

  "Ma'am?"

  "March into the library!"

  Sam marched--slow-time. In fact, no funeral march has been composed ina time so slow as to suit this march of Sam's. One might have suspectedthat he was in a state of apprehension.

  Mr. Williams entered at one door as his son crossed the threshold of theother, and this encounter was a piteous sight. After one glance at hisfather's face, Sam turned desperately, as if to flee outright. But Mrs.Williams stood in the doorway behind him.

  "You come here!" And the father's voice was as terrible as his face."WHAT DID YOU DO TO GEORGIE BASSETT?"

  "Nothin'," Sam gulped; "nothin' at all."

  "What!"

  "We just--we just 'nishiated him."

  Mr. Williams turned abruptly, walked to the fireplace, and there turnedagain, facing the wretched Sam. "That's all you did?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Georgie Bassett's mother has just told me over the telephone," Mr.Williams said, deliberately, "that you and Penrod Schofield and RoderickBitts and Maurice Levy LURED GEORGIE INTO THE CELLAR AND HAD HIM BEATENBY NEGROES!"

  At this, Sam was able to hold up his head a little and to summon arather feeble indignation.

  "It ain't so," he declared. "We didn't any such thing lower him into thecellar. We weren't goin' NEAR the cellar with him. We never THOUGHT ofgoin' down cellar. He went down there himself, first."

  "So! I suppose he was running away from you, poor thing! Trying toescape from you, wasn't he?"

  "He wasn't," Sam said doggedly. "We weren't chasin' him--or anything atall."

  "Then why did he go in the cellar?"

  "Well, he didn't exactly GO in the cellar," Sam said reluctantly.

  "Well, how did he GET in the cellar, then?"

  "He--he fell in," said Sam.

  "HOW did he fall in?"

  "Well, the door was open, and--well, he kept walkin' around there, andwe hollered at him to keep away, but just then he kind of--well, thefirst _I_ noticed was I couldn't SEE him, and so we went and looked downthe steps, and he was sitting down there on the bottom step and kind ofshouting, and--"

  "See her
e!" Mr. Williams interrupted. "You're going to make a cleanbreast of this whole affair and take the consequences. You're going totell it and tell it ALL. Do you understand that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then you tell me how Georgie Bassett fell down the cellar steps--andtell me quick!"

  "He--he was blindfolded."

  "Aha! NOW we're getting at it. You begin at the beginning and tell mejust what you did to him from the time he got here. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Go on, then!"

  "Well, I'm goin' to," Sam protested. "We never hurt him at all. Hewasn't even hurt when he fell down cellar. There's a lot of mud downthere, because the cellar door leaks, and--"

  "Sam!" Mr. Williams's tone was deadly. "Did you hear me tell you tobegin at the beginning?"

  Sam made a great effort and was able to obey.

  "Well, we had everything ready for the 'nishiation before lunch," hesaid. "We wanted it all to be nice, because you said we had to have him,papa, and after lunch Penrod went to guard him--that's a new part in therixual--and he brought him over, and we took him out to the shack andblindfolded him, and--well, he got kind of mad because we wanted himto lay down on his stummick and be tied up, and he said he wouldn't,because the floor was a little bit wet in there and he could feel itsort of squashy under his shoes, and he said his mother didn't want himever to get dirty and he just wouldn't do it; and we all kept tellinghim he had to, or else how could there be any 'nishiation; and he keptgettin' madder and said he wanted to have the 'nishiation outdoors whereit wasn't wet and he wasn't goin' to lay down on his stummick, anyway."Sam paused for wind, then got under way again: "Well, some of the boyswere tryin' to get him to lay down on his stummick, and he kind of fellup against the door and it came open and he ran out in the yard. He wastryin' to get the blindfold off his eyes, but he couldn't because itwas a towel in a pretty hard knot; and he went tearin' all around thebackyard, and we didn't chase him, or anything. All we did was justwatch him--and that's when he fell in the cellar. Well, it didn't hurthim any. It didn't hurt him at all; but he was muddier than what hewould of been if he'd just had sense enough to lay down in the shack.Well, so we thought, long as he was down in the cellar anyway, we mightas well have the rest of the 'nishiation down there. So we brought thethings down and--and 'nishiated him--and that's all. That's every bit wedid to him."

  "Yes," Mr. Williams said sardonically; "I see. What were the details ofthe initiation?"

  "Sir?"

  "I want to know what else you did to him? What was the initiation?"

  "It's--it's secret," Sam murmured piteously.

  "Not any longer, I assure you! The society is a thing of the past andyou'll find your friend Penrod's parents agree with me in that. Mrs.Bassett had already telephoned them when she called us up. You go onwith your story!"

  Sam sighed deeply, and yet it may have been a consolation to know thathis present misery was not altogether without its counterpart. Throughthe falling dusk his spirit may have crossed the intervening distanceto catch a glimpse of his friend suffering simultaneously and standingwithin the same peril. And if Sam's spirit did thus behold Penrod injeopardy, it was a true vision.

  "Go on!" Mr. Williams said.

  "Well, there wasn't any fire in the furnace because it's too warmyet, and we weren't goin' to do anything'd HURT him, so we put him inthere--"

  "In the FURNACE?"

  "It was cold," Sam protested. "There hadn't been any fire there sincelast spring. Course we told him there was fire in it. We HAD todo that," he continued earnestly, "because that was part of the'nishiation. We only kept him in it a little while and kind of hammeredon the outside a little and then we took him out and got him to lay downon his stummick, because he was all muddy anyway, where he fell down thecellar; and how could it matter to anybody that had any sense at all?Well, then we had the rixual, and--and--why, the teeny little paddlin'he got wouldn't hurt a flea! It was that little coloured boy lives inthe alley did it--he isn't anyways near HALF Georgie's size but Georgiegot mad and said he didn't want any ole nigger to paddle him. That'swhat he said, and it was his own foolishness, because Verman won't letANYBODY call him 'nigger', and if Georgie was goin' to call him that heought to had sense enough not to do it when he was layin' down that wayand Verman all ready to be the paddler. And he needn't of been so mad atthe rest of us, either, because it took us about twenty minutes to getthe paddle away from Verman after that, and we had to lock Verman upin the laundry-room and not let him out till it was all over. Well, andthen things were kind of spoiled, anyway; so we didn't do but just alittle more--and that's all."

  "Go on! What was the 'just a little more?'"

  "Well--we got him to swaller a little teeny bit of asafidity that Penrodused to have to wear in a bag around his neck. It wasn't enough to evenmake a person sneeze--it wasn't much more'n a half a spoonful--it wasn'thardly a QUARTER of a spoonf--"

  "Ha!" said Mr. Williams. "That accounts for the doctor. What else?"

  "Well--we--we had some paint left over from our flag, and we put just alittle teeny bit of it on his hair and--"

  "Ha!" said Mr. Williams. "That accounts for the barber. What else?"

  "That's all," Sam said, swallowing. "Then he got mad and went home."

  Mr. Williams walked to the door, and sternly motioned to the culprit toprecede him through it. But just before the pair passed from her sight,Mrs. Williams gave way to an uncontrollable impulse.

  "Sam," she asked, "what does 'In-Or-In' stand for?"

  The unfortunate boy had begun to sniffle.

  "It--it means--Innapenent Order of Infadelaty," he moaned--and ploddedonward to his doom.

  Not his alone: at that very moment Master Roderick Magsworth Bitts,Junior, was suffering also, consequent upon telephoning on the part ofMrs. Bassett, though Roderick's punishment was administered less onthe ground of Georgie's troubles and more on that of Roddy's havingaffiliated with an order consisting so largely of Herman and Verman. Asfor Maurice Levy, he was no whit less unhappy. He fared as ill.

  Simultaneously, two ex-members of the In-Or-In were finding their lotfortunate. Something had prompted them to linger in the alley inthe vicinity of the shack, and it was to this fated edifice that Mr.Williams, with demoniac justice, brought Sam for the deed he had inmind.

  Herman and Verman listened--awe-stricken--to what went on within theshack. Then, before it was over, they crept away and down the alleytoward their own home. This was directly across the alley from theSchofields' stable, and they were horrified at the sounds that issuedfrom the interior of the stable store-room. It was the St. Bartholomew'sEve of that neighbourhood.

  "Man, man!" said Herman, shaking his head. "Glad I ain' no white boy!"

  Verman seemed gloomily to assent.