“That's my uncle Ethelbert's dachshund,” he remarked, at the beginning of the lecture. “You better take him back if you don't want to get arrested.” And when Penrod, rather uneasily ignoring the interruption, proceeded to the exploitation of the genuine, full-blooded Indian dog, Duke, “Why don't you try to give that old dog away?” asked Roderick. “You couldn't sell him.” “My papa would buy me a lots better 'coon than that,” was the information volunteered a little later, “only I wouldn't want the nasty old thing.” Herman of the missing finger obtained no greater indulgence. “Pooh!” said Roderick. “We have two fox-terriers in our stables that took prizes at the kennel show, and their tails were BIT off. There's a man that always bites fox-terriers' tails off.” “Oh, my gosh, what a lie!” exclaimed Sam Williams ignorantly. “Go on with the show whether he likes it or not, Penrod. He's paid his money.” Verman, confident in his own singular powers, chuckled openly at the failure of the other attractions to charm the frosty visitor, and, when his turn came, poured forth a torrent of conversation which was straightway damned. “Rotten,” said Mr. Bitts languidly. “Anybody could talk like that. _I_ could do it if I wanted to.” Verman paused suddenly. “YES, you could!” exclaimed Penrod, stung. “Let's hear you do it, then.” “Yessir!” the other partner shouted. “Let's just hear you DO it!” “I said I could if I wanted to,” responded Roderick. “I didn't say I WOULD.” “Yay! Knows he can't!” sneered Sam. “I can, too, if I try.” “Well, let's hear you try!” So challenged, the visitor did try, but, in the absence of an impartial jury, his effort was considered so pronounced a failure that he was howled down, derided, and mocked with great clamours. “Anyway,” said Roderick, when things had quieted down, “if I couldn't get up a better show than this I'd sell out and leave town.” Not having enough presence of mind to inquire what he would sell out, his adversaries replied with mere formless yells of scorn. “I could get up a better show than this with my left hand,” Roderick asserted. “Well, what would you have in your ole show?” asked Penrod, condescending to language. “That's all right, what I'd HAVE. I'd have enough!” “You couldn't get Herman and Verman in your ole show.” “No, and I wouldn't want 'em, either!” “Well, what WOULD you have?” insisted Penrod derisively. “You'd have to have SUMPTHING--you couldn't be a show yourself!” “How do YOU know?” This was but meandering while waiting for ideas, and evoked another yell. “You think you could be a show all by yourself?” demanded Penrod. “How do YOU know I couldn't?” Two white boys and two black boys shrieked their scorn of the boaster. “I could, too!” Roderick raised his voice to a sudden howl, obtaining a hearing. “Well, why don't you tell us how?” “Well, _I_ know HOW, all right,” said Roderick. “If anybody asks you, you can just tell him I know HOW, all right.”