CHAPTER XVI. WEDNESDAY MADNESS
How long he was "kept in" after school that afternoon is not a matter ofrecord; but it was long. Before he finally appeared upon the street, hehad composed an ample letter on a subject of general interest, namely"School Life", under the supervision of Miss Spencer. He had alsoreceived some scorching admonitions in respect to honourable behaviourregarding other people's letters; and Margaret's had been returned tohim with severe instructions to bear it straight to the original owneraccompanied by full confession and apology. As a measure of insurancethat these things be done, Miss Spence stated definitely her intentionto hold a conversation by telephone with Margaret that evening.Altogether, the day had been unusually awful, even for Wednesday, andPenrod left the school-house with the heart of an anarchist throbbingin his hot bosom. It were more accurate, indeed, to liken him to theanarchist's characteristic weapon; for as Penrod came out to the streethe was, in all inward respects, a bomb, loaded and ticking.
He walked moodily, with a visible aspect of soreness. A murmuroussound was thick about his head, wherefore it is to be surmised that hecommuned with his familiar, and one vehement, oft-repeated phrase beatlike a tocsin of revolt upon the air: "Daw-gone 'em!"
He meant everybody--the universe.
Particularly included, evidently, was a sparrow, offensively cheerfulupon a lamp-post. This self-centred little bird allowed a pebble to passoverhead and remained unconcerned, but, a moment later, feeling a jarbeneath his feet, and hearing the tinkle of falling glass, he decidedto leave. Similarly, and at the same instant, Penrod made the samedecision, and the sparrow in flight took note of a boy likewise inflight.
The boy disappeared into the nearest alley and emerged therefrom,breathless, in the peaceful vicinity of his own home. He entered thehouse, clumped upstairs and down, discovered Margaret reading a book inthe library, and flung the accursed letter toward her with loathing.
"You can take the old thing," he said bitterly. "_I_ don't want it!"
And before she was able to reply, he was out of the room. The nextmoment he was out of the house.
"Daw-GONE 'em!" he said.
And then, across the street, his soured eye fell upon his true comradeand best friend leaning against a picket fence and holding desultoryconverse with Mabel Rorebeck, an attractive member of the FridayAfternoon Dancing Class, that hated organization of which Sam and Penrodwere both members. Mabel was a shy little girl; but Penrod had a vagueunderstanding that Sam considered her two brown pig-tails beautiful.
Howbeit, Sam had never told his love; he was, in fact, sensitive aboutit. This meeting with the lady was by chance, and, although it affordedexquisite moments, his heart was beating in an unaccustomed manner, andhe was suffering from embarrassment, being at a loss, also, for subjectsof conversation. It is, indeed, no easy matter to chat easily with aperson, however lovely and beloved, who keeps her face turned the otherway, maintains one foot in rapid and continuous motion through an arcseemingly perilous to her equilibrium, and confines her responses, bothaffirmative and negative, to "Uh-huh."
Altogether, Sam was sufficiently nervous without any help from Penrod,and it was with pure horror that he heard his own name and Mabel'sshrieked upon the ambient air with viperish insinuation.
"Sam-my and May-bul! OH, oh!"
Sam started violently. Mabel ceased to swing her foot, and both,encarnadined, looked up and down and everywhere for the invisible butwell-known owner of that voice. It came again, in taunting mockery:
"Sammy's mad, and I am glad, And I know what will please him: A bottle o' wine to make him shine, And Mabel Rorebeck to squeeze him!"
"Fresh ole thing!" said Miss Rorebeck, becoming articulate. Andunreasonably including Sam in her indignation, she tossed her head athim with an unmistakable effect of scorn. She began to walk away.
"Well, Mabel," Sam said plaintively, following, "it ain't MY fault. _I_didn't do anything. It's Penrod."
"I don't care," she began pettishly, when the viperish voice was againlifted:
"Oh, oh, oh! Who's your beau? Guess _I_ know: Mabel and Sammy, oh, oh,oh! _I_ caught you!"
Then Mabel did one of those things that eternally perplex the slowersex. She deliberately made a face, not at the tree behind which Penrodwas lurking, but at the innocent and heart-wrung Sam. "You needn't comelimpin' after me, Sam Williams!" she said, though Sam was approachingupon two perfectly sound legs. And then she ran away at the top of herspeed.
"Run, rigger, run!" Penrod began inexcusably. But Sam cut thepersecutions short at this point. Stung to fury, he charged upon thesheltering tree in the Schofields' yard.
Ordinarily, at such a juncture, Penrod would have fled, keeping his owntemper and increasing the heat of his pursuer's by back-flung jeers. Butthis was Wednesday, and he was in no mood to run from Sam. He steppedaway from the tree, awaiting the onset.
"Well, what you goin' to do so much?" he said.
Sam did not pause to proffer the desired information. "'Tcha got'nySENSE!" was the total extent of his vocal preliminaries before flinginghimself headlong upon the taunter; and the two boys went to the groundtogether. Embracing, they rolled, they pommelled, they hammered, theykicked. Alas, this was a fight.
They rose, flailing a while, then renewed their embrace, and, grunting,bestowed themselves anew upon our ever too receptive Mother Earth. Oncemore upon their feet, they beset each other sorely, dealing manygreat blows, ofttimes upon the air, but with sufficient frequency uponresentful flesh. Tears were jolted to the rims of eyes, but technicallythey did not weep. "Got'ny sense," was repeated chokingly many, manytimes; also, "Dern ole fool!" and, "I'll SHOW you!"
The peacemaker who appeared upon the animated scene was Penrod'sgreat-uncle Slocum. This elderly relative had come to call upon Mrs.Schofield, and he was well upon his way to the front door when themutterings of war among some shrubberies near the fence caused him todeflect his course in benevolent agitation.
"Boys! Boys! Shame, boys!" he said; but, as the originality of theseexpressions did not prove striking enough to attract any greatattention from the combatants, he felt obliged to assume a share inthe proceedings. It was a share entailing greater activity than he hadanticipated, and, before he managed to separate the former friends,he intercepted bodily an amount of violence to which he was whollyunaccustomed. Additionally, his attire was disarranged; his hat was nolonger upon his head, and his temper was in a bad way. In fact, as hishat flew off, he made use of words that under less extreme circumstanceswould have caused both boys to feel a much profounder interest than theydid in great-uncle Slocum.
"I'll GET you!" Sam babbled. "Don't you ever dare to speak to me again,Penrod Schofield, long as you live, or I'll whip you worse'n I have thistime!"
Penrod squawked. For the moment he was incapable of coherent speech,and then, failing in a convulsive attempt to reach his enemy, his furyculminated upon an innocent object that had never done him the slightestharm. Great-uncle Slocum's hat lay upon the ground close by, and Penrodwas in the state of irritation that seeks an outlet too blindly--aspeople say, he "HAD to do SOMETHING!" He kicked great-uncle Slocum's hatwith such sweep and precision that it rose swiftly, and, breasting theautumn breeze, passed over the fence and out into the street.
Great-uncle Slocum uttered a scream of anguish, and, immediately ceasingto peacemake, ran forth to a more important rescue; but the conflict wasnot renewed. Sanity had returned to Sam Williams; he was awed by thiscolossal deed of Penrod's and filled with horror at the thaught that hemight be held as accessory to it. Fleetly he fled, pursued as far asthe gate by the whole body of Penrod, and thereafter by Penrod's voicealone.
"You BETTER run! You wait till I catch you! You'll see what you get nexttime! Don't you ever speak to me again as long as you--"
Here he paused abruptly, for great-uncle Slocum had recovered his hatand was returning toward the gate. After one glance at great-uncleSlocum, Penrod did not linger to attempt any explanation--there aretimes wh
en even a boy can see that apologies would seem out of place.Penrod ran round the house to the backyard.
Here he was enthusiastically greeted by Duke. "You get away fromme!" Penrod said hoarsely, and with terrible gestures he repulsed thefaithful animal, who retired philosophically to the stable, while hismaster let himself out of the back gate. Penrod had decided to absenthimself from home for the time being.
The sky was gray, and there were hints of coming dusk in the air; itwas an hour suited to his turbulent soul, and he walked with a sombreswagger. "Ran like a c'ardy-calf!" he sniffed, half aloud, alluding tothe haste of Sam Williams in departure. "All he is, ole c'ardy-calf!"
Then, as he proceeded up the alley, a hated cry smote his ears: "Hi,Penrod! How's your tree-mores?" And two jovial schoolboy faces appearedabove a high board fence. "How's your beautiful hair, Penrod?" theyvociferated. "When you goin' to git your parents' consent? What makesyou think you're only pretty, ole blue stars?"
Penrod looked about feverishly for a missile, and could find none tohis hand, but the surface of the alley sufficed; he made mud balls andfiercely bombarded the vociferous fence. Naturally, hostile mud ballspresently issued from behind this barricade; and thus a campaigndeveloped that offered a picture not unlike a cartoonist's sketch ofa political campaign, wherein this same material is used for thedecoration of opponents. But Penrod had been unwise; he was outnumbered,and the hostile forces held the advantageous side of the fence.
Mud balls can be hard as well as soggy; some of those that reachedPenrod were of no inconsiderable weight and substance, and they made himgrunt despite himself. Finally, one, at close range, struck him inthe pit of the stomach, whereupon he clasped himself about the middlesilently, and executed some steps in seeming imitation of a quaintIndian dance.
His plight being observed through a knothole, his enemies climbed uponthe fence and regarded him seriously.
"Aw, YOU'RE all right, ain't you, old tree-mores?" inquired one.
"I'll SHOW you!" bellowed Penrod, recovering his breath; and he hurleda fat ball--thoughtfully retained in hand throughout his agony--to sucheffect that his interrogator disappeared backward from the fence withouthaving taken any initiative of his own in the matter. His comradeimpulsively joined him upon the ground, and the battle continued.
Through the gathering dusk it went on. It waged but the hotter asdarkness made aim more difficult--and still Penrod would not be drivenfrom the field. Panting, grunting, hoarse from returning insults,fighting on and on, an indistinguishable figure in the gloom, he heldthe back alley against all comers.
For such a combat darkness has one great advantage; but it has anequally important disadvantage--the combatant cannot see to aim; onthe other hand, he cannot see to dodge. And all the while Penrodwas receiving two for one. He became heavy with mud. Plastered,impressionistic and sculpturesque, there was about him a quality of thetragic, of the magnificent. He resembled a sombre masterpiece by Rodin.No one could have been quite sure what he was meant for.
Dinner bells tinkled in houses. Then they were rung from kitchen doors.Calling voices came urging from the distance, calling boys' names intothe darkness. They called and a note of irritation seemed to mar theirbeauty.
Then bells were rung again--and the voices renewed appeals more urgent,much more irritated. They called and called and called.
THUD! went the mud balls.
Thud! Thud! Blunk!
"OOF!" said Penrod.
... Sam Williams, having dined with his family at their usual hour,seven, slipped unostentatiously out of the kitchen door, as soon as hecould, after the conclusion of the meal, and quietly betook himself tothe Schofields' corner.
Here he stationed himself where he could see all avenues of approachto the house, and waited. Twenty minutes went by, and then Sam becamesuddenly alert and attentive, for the arc-light revealed a small,grotesque figure slowly approaching along the sidewalk. It was brown incolour, shaggy and indefinite in form; it limped excessively, and pausedto rub itself, and to meditate.
Peculiar as the thing was, Sam had no doubt as to its identity. Headvanced.
"'Lo, Penrod," he said cautiously, and with a shade of formality.
Penrod leaned against the fence, and, lifting one leg, tested theknee-joint by swinging his foot back and forth, a process evidentlyprovocative of a little pain. Then he rubbed the left side of hisencrusted face, and, opening his mouth to its whole capacity asan aperture, moved his lower jaw slightly from side to side, thustriumphantly settling a question in his own mind as to whether or no asuspected dislocation had taken place.
Having satisfied himself on these points, he examined both shinsdelicately by the sense of touch, and carefully tested the capacities ofhis neck-muscles to move his head in a wonted manner. Then he respondedsomewhat gruffly: "'Lo!" "Where you been?" Sam said eagerly, hisformality vanishing.
"Havin' a mud-fight."
"I guess you did!" Sam exclaimed, in a low voice. "What you goin' totell your--"
"Oh, nothin'."
"Your sister telephoned to our house to see if I knew where you were,"said Sam. "She told me if I saw you before you got home to tell yousumpthing; but not to say anything about it. She said Miss Spence hadtelephoned to her, but she said for me to tell you it was all rightabout that letter, and she wasn't goin' to tell your mother and fatheron you, so you needn't say anything about it to 'em."
"All right," said Penrod indifferently.
"She says you're goin' to be in enough trouble without that," Sam wenton. "You're goin' to catch fits about your Uncle Slocum's hat, Penrod."
"Well, I guess I know it."
"And about not comin' home to dinner, too. Your mother telephoned twiceto Mamma while we were eatin' to see if you'd come in our house. Andwhen they SEE you--MY, but you're goin' to get the DICKENS, Penrod!"
Penrod seemed unimpressed, though he was well aware that Sam's prophecywas no unreasonable one.
"Well, I guess I know it," he repeated casually. And he moved slowlytoward his own gate.
His friend looked after him curiously--then, as the limping figurefumbled clumsily with bruised fingers at the latch of the gate, theresounded a little solicitude in Sam's voice.
"Say, Penrod, how--how do you feel?"
"What?"
"Do you feel pretty bad?"
"No," said Penrod, and, in spite of what awaited him beyond the lightedportals just ahead, he spoke the truth. His nerves were rested, and hissoul was at peace. His Wednesday madness was over.
"No," said Penrod; "I feel bully!"
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