obliged to learn it."

"You're entirely mistaken, Henry," she returned a little sharply. "That
isn't the way he goes in his throat. Penrod is getting to be a VERY
nervous boy, and he makes noises because he can't help it. He works
part of his face, too, sometimes, so much that I've been afraid it would
interfere with his looks."

"Interfere with his what?" For the moment, Mr. Schofield seemed to be
dazed.

"When he's himself," she returned crisply, "he's quite a handsome boy."

"He is?"

"Handsomer than the average, anyhow," Mrs. Schofield said firmly. "No
wonder you don't see it--when we've let his system get all run down like
this!"

"Good heavens!" the mystified Mr. Schofield murmured. "Penrod's system
hasn't been running down; it's just the same as it always was. He's
absolutely all right."

"Indeed he is not!" she said severely. "We've got to take better care of
him than we have been."

"Why, how could--"

"I know what I'm talking about," she interrupted. "Penrod is anything
but a strong boy, and it's all our fault. We haven't been watchful
enough of his health; that's what's the matter with him and makes him so
nervous."

Thus she continued, and, as she talked on, Mr. Schofield began, by
imperceptible processes, to adopt her views. As for Mrs. Schofield
herself, these views became substantial by becoming vocal. This is to
say, with all deference, that as soon as she heard herself stating
them she was convinced that they accurately represented facts. And the
determined look in her eyes deepened when the "deepoe hack" turned the
familiar corner and she saw Penrod running to the gate, followed by
Duke.

Never had Penrod been so glad to greet his mother. Never was he more
boisterous in the expression of happiness of that kind. And the tokens
of his appetite at dinner, a little later, were extraordinary. Mr.
Schofield began to feel reassured in spite of himself; but Mrs.
Schofield shook her head.

"Don't you see? It's abnormal!" she said, in a low, decisive voice.

That night Penrod awoke from a sweet, conscienceless slumber--or,
rather, he was awakened. A wrappered form lurked over him in the gloom.

"Uff--ow--" he muttered, and turned his face from the dim light that
shone through the doorway. He sighed and sought the depths of sleep
again.

"Penrod," his mother said softly, and, while he resisted feebly, she
turned him over to face her.

"Gawn lea' me 'lone," he muttered.

Then, as a littl