you----"

"Yay! I'd swaller it as fast as it'd come down. I wish I had a BARREL
o' snow right now. I wish this whole barn was full of it. I wish they
wasn't anything in the whole world except just good ole snow."

Penrod and Herman rose and went out to the hydrant, where they drank
long and ardently. Sam was still talking about snow when they returned.

"No, I wouldn't just roll in it. I'd stick it all round inside my
clo'es, and fill my hat. No, I'd freeze a big pile of it all hard, and
I'd roll her out flat and then I'd carry her down to some ole tailor's
and have him make me a SUIT out of her, and----"

"Can't you keep still about your ole snow?" demanded Penrod petulantly.
"Makes me so thirsty I can't keep still, and I've drunk so much now I
bet I bust. That ole hydrant water's mighty near hot anyway."

"I'm goin' to have a big store, when I grow up," volunteered Maurice.

"Candy store?" asked Penrod.

"NO, sir! I'll have candy in it, but not to eat, so much. It's goin' to
be a deportment store: ladies' clothes, gentlemen's clothes, neckties,
china goods, leather goods, nice lines in woollings and lace goods----"

"Yay! I wouldn't give a five-for-a-cent marble for your whole store,"
said Sam. "Would you, Penrod?"

"Not for ten of 'em; not for a million of 'em! _I_'m goin' to have----"

"Wait!" clamoured Maurice. "You'd be foolish, because they'd be a toy
deportment in my store where they'd be a hunderd marbles! So, how much
would you think your five-for-a-cent marble counts for? And when I'm
keepin' my store I'm goin' to get married."

"Yay!" shrieked Sam derisively. "MARRIED! Listen!" Penrod and Herman
joined in the howl of contempt.

"Certumly I'll get married," asserted Maurice stoutly. "I'll get married
to Marjorie Jones. She likes me awful good, and I'm her beau."

"What makes you think so?" inquired Penrod in a cryptic voice.

"Because she's my beau, too," came the prompt answer. "I'm her beau
because she's my beau; I guess that's plenty reason! I'll get married to
her as soon as I get my store running nice."

Penrod looked upon him darkly, but, for the moment, held his peace.

"Married!" jeered Sam Williams. "Married to Marjorie Jones! You're the
only boy I ever heard say he was going to get married. I wouldn't
get married for--why, I wouldn't for--for----" Unable to think of
any inducement the mere mention of which would not be ridiculously
incommensurate, he proceeded: "I wouldn't do it! W