"You said--Quit that!"

"Boys!" Mrs. Williams, Sam's mother, opened the door of the room
and stood upon the threshold. The scuffling of Sam and Penrod
ceased instantly, and they stood hushed and stricken, while fear
fell upon them. "Boys, you weren't quarrelling, were you?"

"Ma'am?" said Sam.

"Were you quarrelling with Penrod?"

"No, ma'am," answered Sam in a small voice.

"It sounded like it. What was the matter?"

Both boys returned her curious glance with meekness. They were
summoning their faculties--which were needed. Indeed, these are
the crises which prepare a boy for the business difficulties of
his later life. Penrod, with the huge weapon beneath his jacket,
insecurely supported by an elbow and by a waistband which he
instantly began to distrust, experienced distressful sensations
similar to those of the owner of too heavily insured property
carrying a gasoline can under his overcoat and detained for
conversation by a policeman. And if, in the coming years it was
to be Penrod's lot to find himself in that precise situation, no
doubt he would be the better prepared for it on account of this
present afternoon's experience under the scalding eye of Mrs.
Williams. It should be added that Mrs. Williams's eye was awful
to the imagination only. It was a gentle eye and but mildly