"Say, Rupe, I got a box of rats in our stable under a glass cover, so you can watch 'em jump around when you hammer on the box. Come on and look at 'em."
"All right," said the fat-faced boy, slightly mollified. "We'll let Dan kill 'em."
"No, sir! I'm goin' to keep 'em. They're kind of pets; I've had 'em all summer—I got names for 'em, and"
"Looky here, 'bo. Did you hear me say we'll let Dan kill 'em?"
"Yes, but I won't"
"What won't you?" Rupe became sinister immediately. "It seems to me you're gettin' pretty fresh around here."
"Well, I don't want"
Mr. Collins once more brought into play the dreadful eye-to-eye scowl as practised "up at the Third," and, sometimes, also by young leading men upon the stage. Frowning appallingly, and thrusting forward his underlip, he placed his nose almost in contact with the nose of Penrod, whose eyes naturally became crossed.
"Dan kills the rats. See?" hissed the fat-faced boy, maintaining the horrible juxtaposition.
