“Why, you can't DO anything,” Sam began argumentatively. “You talk about being a show all by yourself; what could you try to do? Show us sumpthing you can do.” “I didn't say I was going to DO anything,” returned the badgered one, still evading. “Well, then, how'd you BE a show?” Penrod demanded. “WE got a show here, even if Herman didn't point or Verman didn't talk. Their father stabbed a man with a pitchfork, I guess, didn't he?” “How do _I_ know?” “Well, I guess he's in jail, ain't he?” “Well, what if their father is in jail? I didn't say he wasn't, did I?” “Well, YOUR father ain't in jail, is he?” “Well, I never said he was, did I?” “Well, then,” continued Penrod, “how could you be a----” He stopped abruptly, staring at Roderick, the birth of an idea plainly visible in his altered expression. He had suddenly remembered his intention to ask Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, about Rena Magsworth, and this recollection collided in his mind with the irritation produced by Roderick's claiming some mysterious attainment which would warrant his setting up as a show in his single person. Penrod's whole manner changed instantly. “Roddy,” he asked, almost overwhelmed by a prescience of something vast and magnificent, “Roddy, are you any relation of Rena Magsworth?” Roderick had never heard of Rena Magsworth, although a concentration of the sentence yesterday pronounced upon her had burned, black and horrific, upon the face of every newspaper in the country. He was not allowed to read the journals of the day and his family's indignation over the sacrilegious coincidence of the name had not been expressed in his presence. But he saw that it was an awesome name to Penrod Schofield and Samuel Williams. Even Herman and Verman, though lacking many educational advantages on account of a long residence in the country, were informed on the subject of Rena Magsworth through hearsay, and they joined in the portentous silence. “Roddy,” repeated Penrod, “honest, is Rena Magsworth some relation of yours?” There is no obsession more dangerous to its victims than a conviction especially an inherited one--of superiority: this world is so full of Missourians. And from his earliest years Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, had been trained to believe in the importance of the Magsworth family. At every meal he absorbed a sense of Magsworth greatness, and yet, in his infrequent meetings with persons of his own age and sex, he was treated as negligible. Now, dimly, he perceived that there was a Magsworth claim of some sort which was impressive, even to boys. Magsworth blood was the essential of all true distinction in the world, he knew. Consequently, having been driven into a cul-de-sac, as a result of flagrant and unfounded boasting, he was ready to take advantage of what appeared to be a triumphal way out. “Roddy,” said Penrod again, with solemnity, “is Rena Magsworth some relation of yours?” “IS she, Roddy?” asked Sam, almost hoarsely.