Penrod | Page 9

called up and
upon, by the exhausted Mrs. Schofield, to subjugate his offspring by
wire.
The two ladies made all possible haste, after this, to deliver Penrod into
the hands of Mrs. Lora Rewbush; nevertheless, they found opportunity
to exchange earnest congratulations upon his not having recognized the
humble but serviceable paternal garment now brilliant about the
Lancelotish middle. Altogether, they felt that the costume was a
success. Penrod looked like nothing ever remotely imagined by Sir
Thomas Malory or Alfred Tennyson;--for that matter, he looked like
nothing ever before seen on earth; but as Mrs. Schofield and Margaret
took their places in the audience at the Women's Arts and Guild Hall,
the anxiety they felt concerning Penrod's elocutionary and gesticular
powers, so soon to be put to public test, was pleasantly tempered by
their satisfaction that, owing to their efforts, his outward appearance
would be a credit to the family.
CHAPTER IV
DESPERATION

The Child Sir Lancelot found himself in a large anteroom behind the
stage--a room crowded with excited children, all about equally
medieval and artistic. Penrod was less conspicuous than he thought
himself, but he was so preoccupied with his own shame, steeling his
nerves to meet the first inevitable taunting reference to his sister's
stockings, that he failed to perceive there were others present in much
of his own unmanned condition. Retiring to a corner, immediately upon
his entrance, he managed to unfasten the mantle at the shoulders, and,
drawing it round him, pinned it again at his throat so that it concealed
the rest of his costume. This permitted a temporary relief, but increased
his horror of the moment when, in pursuance of the action of the
"pageant," the sheltering garment must be cast aside.
Some of the other child knights were also keeping their mantles close
about them. A few of the envied opulent swung brilliant fabrics from
their shoulders, airily, showing off hired splendours from a professional
costumer's stock, while one or two were insulting examples of parental
indulgence, particularly little Maurice Levy, the Child Sir Galahad.
This shrinking person went clamorously about, making it known
everywhere that the best tailor in town had been dazzled by a great sum
into constructing his costume. It consisted of blue velvet
knickerbockers, a white satin waistcoat, and a beautifully cut little
swallow-tailed coat with pearl buttons. The medieval and artistic
triumph was completed by a mantle of yellow velvet, and little white
boots, sporting gold tassels.
All this radiance paused in a brilliant career and addressed the Child Sir
Lancelot, gathering an immediately formed semicircular audience of
little girls. Woman was ever the trailer of magnificence.
"What YOU got on?" inquired Mr. Levy, after dispensing information.
"What you got on under that ole golf cape?"
Penrod looked upon him coldly. At other times his questioner would
have approached him with deference, even with apprehension. But
to-day the Child Sir Galahad was somewhat intoxicated with the power
of his own beauty.
"What YOU got on?" he repeated.
"Oh, nothin'," said Penrod, with an indifference assumed at great cost
to his nervous system.
The elate Maurice was inspired to set up as a wit. "Then you're nakid!"

he shouted exultantly. "Penrod Schofield says he hasn't got nothin' on
under that ole golf cape! He's nakid! He's nakid."
The indelicate little girls giggled delightedly, and a javelin pierced the
inwards of Penrod when he saw that the Child Elaine, amber-curled and
beautiful Marjorie Jones, lifted golden laughter to the horrid jest.
Other boys and girls came flocking to the uproar. "He's nakid, he's
nakid!" shrieked the Child Sir Galahad. "Penrod Schofield's nakid! He's
NA-A-A-KID!"
"Hush, hush!" said Mrs. Lora Rewbush, pushing her way into the group.
"Remember, we are all little knights and ladies to- day. Little knights
and ladies of the Table Round would not make so much noise. Now
children, we must begin to take our places on the stage. Is everybody
here?"
Penrod made his escape under cover of this diversion: he slid behind
Mrs. Lora Rewbush, and being near a door, opened it unnoticed and
went out quickly, closing it behind him. He found himself in a narrow
and vacant hallway which led to a door marked "Janitor's Room."
Burning with outrage, heart-sick at the sweet, cold-blooded laughter of
Marjorie Jones, Penrod rested his elbows upon a window-sill and
speculated upon the effects of a leap from the second story. One of the
reasons he gave it up was his desire to live on Maurice Levy's account:
already he was forming educational plans for the Child Sir Galahad.
A stout man in blue overalls passed through the hallway muttering to
himself petulantly. "I reckon they'll find that hall hot enough NOW!"
he said, conveying to Penrod an impression that some too feminine
women had sent him