n the yard at
the rake. So did Sam Williams.

"Come on, Verman," said Herman. "We ain' go' 'at stove-wood f' supper
yit."

Giggling reminiscently, the brothers disappeared leaving silence behind
them in the carriage-house. Penrod and Sam retired slowly into the
shadowy interior, each glancing, now and then, with a preoccupied air,
at the open, empty doorway where the late afternoon sunshine was growing
ruddy. At intervals one or the other scraped the floor reflectively
with the side of his shoe. Finally, still without either having made
any effort at conversation, they went out into the yard and stood,
continuing their silence.

"Well," said Sam, at last, "I guess it's time I better be gettin' home.
So long, Penrod!"

"So long, Sam," said Penrod, feebly.

With a solemn gaze he watched his friend out of sight. Then he went
slowly into the house, and after an interval occupied in a unique
manner, appeared in the library, holding a pair of brilliantly gleaming
shoes in his hand.

Mr. Schofield, reading the evening paper, glanced frowningly over it at
his offspring.

"Look, papa," said Penrod. "I found your shoes where you'd taken 'em
off in your room, to put on your slippers, and they were all dusty. So I
took 'em out on the back porch and gave 'em a good blacking. They shine
up fine, don't they?"

"Well, I'll be d-dud-dummed!" said the startled Mr. Schofield.

Penrod was zigzagging back to normal.

CHAPTER XXIV "LITTLE GENTLEMAN"

The midsummer sun was stinging hot outside the little barber-shop next
to the corner drug store and Penrod, undergoing a toilette preliminary
to his very slowly approaching twelfth birthday, was adhesive enough to
retain upon his face much hair as it fell from the shears. There is a
mystery here: the tonsorial processes are not unagreeable to manhood; in
truth, they are soothing; but the hairs detached from a boy's head get
into his eyes, his ears, his nose, his mouth, and down his neck, and he
does everywhere itch excruciatingly. Wherefore he blinks, winks, weeps,
twitches, condenses his countenance, and squirms; and perchance the
barber's scissors clip more than intended--belike an outlying flange of
ear.

"Um--muh--OW!" said Penrod, this thing having happened.

"D' I touch y' up a little?" inquired the barber, smiling falsely.

"Ooh--UH!" The boy in the chair offered inarticulate protest, as the
wound was rubbed with alum.

"THAT don't hurt!" said the barber. "You WIL