"Penrod," Margaret called, "stop that! I'm trying to write letters. If you don't quit and go to sleep, I'll call papa up, and you'll SEE! "
The noise ceased, or, rather, it tapered down to a desultory faint croaking which finally died out; but there can be little doubt that Penrod's last waking thoughts were of instrumental music. And in the morning, when he woke to face the gloomy day's scholastic tasks, something unusual and eager fawned in his face with the return of memory. "Taw-p'taw!" he began. "PAW!"
All day, in school and out, his mind was busy with computations--not such as are prescribed by mathematical pedants, but estimates of how much old rags and old iron would sell for enough money to buy a horn. Happily, the next day, at lunch, he was able to dismiss this problem from his mind: he learned that his Uncle Joe would be passing through town, on his way from Nevada, the following afternoon, and all the Schofield family were to go to the station to see him. Penrod would be excused from school.
At this news his cheeks became pink, and for a moment he was breathless. Uncle Joe and Penrod did not meet often, but when they did, Uncle Joe invariably gave Penrod money. Moreover, he always managed to do it privately so that later there was no bothersome supervision. Last time he had given Penrod a silver dollar.
At thirty-five minutes after two, Wednesday afternoon, Uncle Joe's train came into the station, and Uncle Joe got out and shouted among his relatives. At eighteen minutes before three he was waving to them from the platform of the last car, having just slipped a two-dollar bill into Penrod's breast-pocket. And, at seven minutes after three, Penrod opened the door of the largest "music store" in town.
A tall, exquisite, fair man, evidently a musical earl, stood before him, leaning whimsically upon a piano of the highest polish. The sight abashed Penrod not a bit--his remarkable financial condition even made him rather peremptory.
"See here," he said brusquely: "I want to look at that big horn in the window."
"Very well," said the earl; "look at it." And leaned more luxuriously upon the polished piano.
"I meant--" Penrod began, but paused, something daunted, while an unnamed fear brought greater mildness into his voice, as he continued, "I meant--I--How much IS that big horn?"
"How much?" the earl repeated.
"I mean," said Penrod, "how much is it worth?"
"I don't know," the earl returned. "Its price is eighty-five dollars."
"Eighty-fi--" Penrod began mechanically, but was forced to pause and swallow a little air that obstructed his throat, as the difference between eighty-five and two became more and more startling. He had entered the store, rich; in the last ten seconds he had become poverty-stricken. Eighty-five dollars was the same as eighty-five millions.
"Shall I put it aside for you," asked the salesman-earl, "while you look around the other stores to see if there's anything you like better?"
"I guess--I guess not," said Penrod, whose face had grown red. He swallowed again, scraped the floor with the side of his right shoe, scratched the back of his neck, and then, trying to make his manner casual and easy, "Well I can't stand around here all day," he said. "I got to be gettin' on up the street."
"Business, I suppose?"
Penrod, turning to the door, suspected jocularity, but he found himself without recourse; he was nonplussed.
"Sure you won't let me have that horn tied up in nice wrapping-paper in case you decide to take it?"
Penrod was almost positive that the spirit of this question was satirical; but he was unable to reply, except by a feeble shake of the head--though ten minutes later, as he plodded forlornly his homeward way, he looked over his shoulder and sent backward a few words of morose repartee:
"Oh, I am, am I?" he muttered, evidently concluding a conversation which he had continued mentally with the salesman.
"Well, you're double anything you call me, so that makes you a smart Aleck twice! Ole double smart Aleck!"
After that, he walked with the least bit more briskness, but not much. No wonder he felt discouraged: there are times when eighty-five dollars can be a blow to anybody! Penrod was so stunned that he actually forgot what was in his pocket. He passed two drug stores, and they had absolutely no meaning to him. He walked all the way without spending a cent.
At home he spent a moment in the kitchen pantry while the cook was in the cellar; then he went out to the stable and began some really pathetic experiments. His materials were the small tin funnel which he had obtained in the pantry, and a short section of old garden hose. He inserted the funnel into one end of the garden hose, and made it fast by wrappings of cord. Then he arranged the hose in a double, circular coil, tied it so that it would remain coiled, and blew into the other end.
