“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.”
“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?”