The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1915-07-19
CHAPTER W.
Evening


 TNHE sun was setting behind the
 back fence (though at con
 siderable distance) as Penrod
 SchofieId approached that fence and looked thoughtfuIly up at the top Of it, apparently having in mind some purpose to climb up and sit there. De- batting this, he passed his fingers gent ly up and down the backs of his legs, and then something seemed to decide him not to sit anywhere. He leaned against the fence, sighed profoundly and gazed at Duke, his wtstful dog. !
 The sigh was reminiscent Episodes of simple pathos were passing before his inward eye. About the most pain full was the vision of lovely Marjorie Jones. weeping with rage as the Child Sir Lance1ot was dragged, tnsatiate, from the prostrate and bowling, Child Sir Galahad, after an onslaught del1v- cred the precise instant the curtain be- gan to fall upon the demoralfsed 4'pag- cant. And then-oh. pangsi oh, wo- mani-she slapped at the rufhan's cheek, as he was led past her by re sentfuI tanitor, and turning, flung her arms round the Child Sir Galahad's neck.
 -Penrod schoneld. don't you dare ever speak to me again as long as you Hvel'' Matrices little white boots and gold tassels had done their work.
 At home the late Child Sir Lancelot was consigned to a locked clothes clos ct pending the arrival of his father. Mr. Schofeld came, and shortly, after there was put into practice an old patriarcha1 custom It Is a custom of inconceiYable antiquity - probably pr1mordial. certainly prehistoric, but still in vogue in some remaining cita- dels of the ancient simpIicities of the republic.
 And now. therefore, in the dusk, Penrod leaned against the fence and sighed
 His case is comparable to that of an adult who could have survived siuai- lar experience. Looking back to the sawdust box, fancy pictures this com parable adult a. serious and inventive writer engaged in congeniaI literary activities in a private retreat. We see this period marked by the creation of some of the most yirile passages of work dealing exclusively in red cor puscles and huge primal impulses. We see this thoughtful man dragged from his calm seclusion to a horrifying pub Hcity; forced to adopt the stage and, himself writer, compelled to exploit the -repulsve sentiments Of an author not only personally distasteful to him, but whose whole method and school in bel1es-lettres he despises
 We see him reduced by desperation and modesty to stealing pair of over alls. We conceive him to have ruin ed, then, his own reputation and to have utterly disgraced his family; next, to have engaged in the duello and to have been spurned by his ladylove thus lost to him (according to her own declaration) forever. Finally, we must behold imprisonment by the authori- ties, the third degree and dageliation.
 We conceive our man deciding that his career had been perhaps too event full Yet Penrod had condensed all of it into eight hours.
 It appears that he had at least some shadowy perception of a recent full ness of life, for, as he leaned against the fence gazing upon his wistful Duke, he sighed again and murmured aloud:
 Well, hasn't this been a day!'
 But in little while a star came out, freshly lighted, from the highest part of the sky, and Penrod, looking up, noticed it casually and a little drowsi- 1y. He yawned. Then he sighed once more, but not reminiscently. Evening had come; the day was over.
 It was sigh of pure ennuf
 Next day Penrod acquired dime by a simple and antique process which was without doubt sometimes prac4c- ed by the boys of Babylon When the teacher of his class in Sunday school requested the weekly contribution Pen rod, fumblfng honestly (at f1rst) in the wrong pockets, managed to look so en- barrassed that the gentle lady told him not to- mind and said she was often forgetful herself. She was so sweet about it that, looking into the future, Penrod began to feel confident of small but regular income