Mr. Samuel Williams, aged eleven, and congenial to Penrod in years, sex, and disposition, appeared in the doorway, shaking into foam a black liquid within a pint bottle, stoppered by a thumb.
"Yay, Penrod!" the visitor gave greeting.
"Yay," said Penrod with slight enthusiasm.
"What you got?"
"Lickrish water."
"Drinkin's!" demanded Penrod promptly. This is equivalent to the cry of "Biters" when an apple is shown, and establishes unquestionable title.
"Down to there!" stipulated Sam, removing his thumb to affix it firmly as a mark upon the side of the bottle—a check upon gormandizing that remained carefully in place while Penrod drank. This rite concluded, the visitor's eye fell upon the basket deposited by Delia. He emitted tokens of pleasure.
"Looky! Looky! Looky there! That ain't any good pile o' stuff—oh, no!"
"What for?"
"Drug store!" shouted Sam. "We'll be partners"
"Or else," Penrod suggested, "I'll run the drug store and you be a customer"
"No! Partners!" insisted Sam with such con-
