n' to
tell your--"

"Oh, nothin'."

"Your sister telephoned to our house to see if I knew where you were,"
said Sam. "She told me if I saw you before you got home to tell you
sumpthing; but not to say anything about it. She said Miss Spence had
telephoned to her, but she said for me to tell you it was all right
about that letter, and she wasn't goin' to tell your mother and father
on you, so you needn't say anything about it to 'em."

"All right," said Penrod indifferently.

"She says you're goin' to be in enough trouble without that," Sam went
on. "You're goin' to catch fits about your Uncle Slocum's hat, Penrod."

"Well, I guess I know it."

"And about not comin' home to dinner, too. Your mother telephoned twice
to Mamma while we were eatin' to see if you'd come in our house. And
when they SEE you--MY, but you're goin' to get the DICKENS, Penrod!"

Penrod seemed unimpressed, though he was well aware that Sam's prophecy
was no unreasonable one.

"Well, I guess I know it," he repeated casually. And he moved slowly
toward his own gate.

His friend looked after him curiously--then, as the limping figure
fumbled clumsily with bruised fingers at the latch of the gate, there
sounded a little solicitude in Sam's voice.

"Say, Penrod, how--how do you feel?"

"What?"

"Do you feel pretty bad?"

"No," said Penrod, and, in spite of what awaited him beyond the lighted
portals just ahead, he spoke the truth. His nerves were rested, and his
soul was at peace. His Wednesday madness was over.

"No," said Penrod; "I feel bully!"

CHAPTER XVII. PENROD'S BUSY DAY

Although the pressure had thus been relieved and Penrod found peace with
himself, nevertheless there were times during the rest of that week
when he felt a strong distaste for Margaret. His schoolmates frequently
reminded him of such phrases in her letter as they seemed least able to
forget, and for hours after each of these experiences he was unable to
comport himself with human courtesy when constrained (as at dinner) to
remain for any length of time in the same room with her. But by Sunday
these moods had seemed to pass; he attended church in her close
company, and had no thought of the troubles brought upon him by her
correspondence with a person who throughout remained unknown to him.

Penrod slumped far down in the pew with his knees against the back of
that in front, and he also languished to one side, so that the people
sitting behind were aff