Spinner; I feared it might hurt your feelings."

Miss Spinner's feelings were decidedly hurt, and she began to vie with
Mr. Pound in urging that the valley be rid of the obnoxious Professor.
So drastic were the measures which she called for, and so vigorous her
demands on the gentle squire, that he retreated on Mr. Pound for aid,
advocating all that the minister had proposed as the most humanitarian
method of dealing with the case.

"A warrant will issue to-night, but to avoid trouble with the
constable's wife I shall order it served in the morning," he said at
last as he stood by his chair, folding his napkin. Thus he eased his
conscience by making the warrant responsible for its own existence, and
his words struck deeper into my heart for their impressive legal form.

A warrant will issue! As I slipped out by the kitchen this rang in my
ears with the insistence of a refrain. Because I had disobeyed, left
my post of safety, and plunged into the woods in pursuit of a few small
trout, a warrant would issue, a ghoulish offspring of my reckless
spirit, seize the gentle Professor in its claws and drag him to
ignominy. A warrant would issue! And the blue ribbon would no longer
bob majestically in Penelope's hair, but would droop with her father's
shame. The picture of them standing in the cabin door, waving their
farewell and calling to me to come again, was very clear in my mind,
and made sharper the sense of the trouble which I had brought to them.
Three times I ran around the house wildly, as though I would blur the
picture by merely travelling in a circle; but instead it grew clearer,
and the Professor seemed to regard me with eyes more kindly and
Penelope to call to me in a more friendly voice. So became clearer my
obligation to help them, and intent on making my plea I burst into the
parlor. The scene there chilled my ardor. In the dim evening light,
like sombre ghosts, the company sat in a wide circle about the borders
of the room, erect and uncomfortable as one must sit on slippery
horse-hair, listening to Miss Spinner at the piano droning through the
first bars of "Sweet Violets."

"Ssh!" exclaimed my father, and even the gloom could not hide his frown.

"But, father, the Professor didn't----"

My mother tiptoed across the room and gently pushed me out of the door.
"David, go to bed!" she commanded.

To bed I went, but not to sleep. Did I close my eyes I saw the
Professor in the clutches of Byron Lu