“Dan. You better call your ole pup, 'cause Dan eats LIVE dogs.”
Dan's actions poorly supported his master's assertion, for, upon Duke's ceasing to bark, Dan rose and showed the most courteous interest in making the little, old dog's acquaintance. Dan had a great deal of manner, and it became plain that Duke was impressed favourably in spite of former prejudice, so that presently the two trotted amicably back to their masters and sat down with the harmonious but indifferent air of having known each other intimately for years.
They were received without comment, though both boys looked at them reflectively for a time. It was Penrod who spoke first.
“What number you go to?” (In an “oral lesson in English,” Penrod had been instructed to put this question in another form: “May I ask which of our public schools you attend?”)
“Me? What number do I go to?” said the stranger, contemptuously. “I don't go to NO number in vacation!”
“I mean when it ain't.”
“Third,” returned the fat-faced boy. “I got 'em ALL scared in THAT school.”
“What of?” innocently asked Penrod, to whom “the Third”—in a distant part of town—was undiscovered country.
“What of? I guess you'd soon see what of, if you ever was in that school about one day. You'd be lucky if you got out alive!”
“Are the teachers mean?”