With the horn upon his lap he began to rub the greenish brass surface with a rag.

He meant to make this good ole two-dollar horn of his LOOK like sumpthing! Presently, moved by a better idea, he left the horn in the stable and went into the house, soon afterward appearing before his mother in the library.
"Mamma," he said, complainingly, "Della won't--" But Mrs.Schofield checked him.
"Sh, Penrod; your father's reading the paper." Penrod glanced at Mr.Schofield, who sat near the window, reading by the last light of the early sunset.
"Well, I know it," said Penrod, lowering his voice.

"But I wish you'd tell Della to let me have the silver polish.

She says she won't, and I want to--" "Be quiet, Penrod, you can't have the silver polish." "But, mamma--" "Not another word.

Can't you see you're interrupting your father.