“Della,” he said to the cook, “do you know what I'd do if you was a crook and I had my ottomatic with me?”
Della was industrious and preoccupied. “If I was a cook!” she repeated ignorantly, and with no cordiality. “Well, I AM a cook. I'm a-cookin' right now. Either g'wan in the house where y'b'long, or git out in th' yard!”
Penrod chose the latter, and betook himself slowly to the back fence, where he was greeted in a boisterous manner by his wistful little old dog, Duke, returning from some affair of his own in the alley.
“Get down!” said Penrod coldly, and bestowed a spiritless “Bing!” upon him.
At this moment a shout was heard from the alley, “Yay, Penrod!” and the sandy head of comrade Sam Williams appeared above the fence.
“Come on over,” said Penrod.
As Sam obediently climbed the fence, the little old dog, Duke, moved slowly away, but presently, glancing back over his shoulder and seeing the two boys standing together, he broke into a trot and disappeared round a corner of the house. He was a dog of long and enlightening experience; and he made it clear that the conjunction of Penrod and Sam portended events which, from his point of view, might be unfortunate. Duke had a forgiving disposition, but he also possessed a melancholy wisdom. In the company of either Penrod or Sam, alone, affection often caused him to linger, albeit with a little pessimism, but when he saw them together, he invariably withdrew in as unobtrusive a manner as haste would allow.
“What you doin'?” Sam asked.
“Nothin'. What you?”
“I'll show you if you'll come over to our house,” said Sam, who was wearing an important and secretive expression.