"What'd you say his name was ?" he asked.
"Verman." "How d'you spell it ?" "V-e-r-m-a-n," replied Penrod, having previously received this information from Herman.
"Oh!" said Sam.
"Point to sumpthing, Herman," Penrod commanded, and Sam's excitement, when Herman pointed was sufficient to the occasion.
Penrod, the discoverer, continued his exploitation of the manifold wonders of the Sherman, Herman, and Verman collection.

With the air of a proprietor he escorted Sam into the alley for a good look at Queenie (who seemed not to care for her increasing celebrity) and proceeded to a dramatic climax--the recital of the episode of the pitchfork and its consequences.
The cumulative effect was enormous, and could have but one possible result.

The normal boy is always at least one half Barnum.
"Let's get up a SHOW!" Penrod and Sam both claimed to have said it first, a question left unsettled in the ecstasies of hurried preparation.

The bundle under Sam's arm, brought with no definite purpose, proved to have been an inspiration.

It consisted of broad sheets of light yellow wrapping-paper, discarded by Sam's mother in her spring house-cleaning.
There were half-filled cans and buckets of paint in the storeroom adjoining the carriage-house, and presently the side wall of the stable flamed information upon the passer-by from a great and spreading poster.
"Publicity," primal requisite of all theatrical and amphitheatrical enterprise thus provided, subsequent arrangements proceeded with a fury of energy which transformed the empty hayloft.