. . . On the following Saturday a yodel sounded from the sunny sidewalk in front of the Schofields' house, and Penrod, issuing forth, beheld the familiar figure of Samuel Williams waiting.
Upon Sam's breast there glittered a round bit of silver suspended by a white ribbon from a bar of the same metal. Upon the breast of Penrod was a decoration precisely similar.
"'Lo, Penrod," said Sam. "What are you goin' to do?"
"Nothin'"
"I got mine on," said Sam.
"I have, too," said Penrod. "I wouldn't take a hunderd dollars for mine."
"I wouldn't take two hunderd for mine," said Sam.
Each glanced pleasantly at the other's medal. They faced each other without shame. Neither had the slightest sense of hypocrisy in himself or in his comrade. On the contrary!
Penrod's eyes went from Sam's medal back to his own; thence they wandered, with perhaps a little disappointment, to the lifeless street and to the empty yards and spectatorless windows of the neighbourhood. Then he looked southward toward the busy heart of the town, where multitudes were.
"Let's go down and see what time it is by the court-house-clock," said Penrod.