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Tarkington, Booth, 1869-1946

"Penrod"


Of course, too, she was curious about the accordion. It would be
dastardly to hint that she had noticed a paper bag which bulged
the pocket of Penrod's coat, and yet this bag was undeniably
conspicuous--"and children are very like grown people sometimes!"
Penrod brought forth the bag, purchased on the way at a drug store, and
till this moment UNOPENED, which expresses in a word the depth of his
sentiment for Marjorie. It contained an abundant fifteen-cents' worth of
lemon drops, jaw-breakers, licorice sticks, cinnamon drops, and shopworn
choclate creams.
"Take all you want," he said, with off-hand generosity.
"Why, Penrod Schofield," exclaimed the wholly thawed damsel, "you nice
boy!"
"Oh, that's nothin'," he returned airily. "I got a good deal of money,
nowadays."
"Where from?"
"Oh--just around." With a cautious gesture he offered a jaw-breaker to
Mitchy-Mitch, who snatched it indignantly and set about its absorption
without delay.
"Can you play on that?" asked Marjorie, with some difficulty, her cheeks
being rather too hilly for conversation.
"Want to hear me?"
She nodded, her eyes sweet with anticipation.
This was what he had come for. He threw back his head, lifted his eyes
dreamily, as he had seen real musicians lift theirs, and distended the
accordion preparing to produce the wonderful calf-like noise which was
the instrument's great charm.
But the distention evoked a long wail which was at once drowned in
another one.


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