y forgot to put
Penrod to the question. It is doubtful, however, if he felt any relief;
there may have been even a slight, unconscious disappointment not
altogether dissimilar to that of an actor deprived of a good part.

In the course of some really necessary preparations for dinner he
stepped from the bathroom into the pink-and-white bedchamber of his
sister, and addressed her rather thickly through a towel.

"When'd mamma find out Aunt Clara and Cousin Clara were coming?"

"Not till she saw them from the window. She just happened to look out
as they drove up. Aunt Clara telegraphed this morning, but it wasn't
delivered."

"How long they goin' to stay?"

"I don't know."

Penrod ceased to rub his shining face, and thoughtfully tossed the towel
through the bathroom door. "Uncle John won't try to make 'em come
back home, I guess, will he?" (Uncle John was Aunt Clara's husband, a
successful manufacturer of stoves, and his lifelong regret was that he
had not entered the Baptist ministry.) "He'll let 'em stay here quietly,
won't he?"

"What ARE you talking about?" demanded Margaret, turning from her
mirror. "Uncle John sent them here. Why shouldn't he let them stay?"

Penrod looked crestfallen. "Then he hasn't taken to drink?"

"Certainly not!" She emphasized the denial with a pretty peal of soprano
laughter.

"Then why," asked her brother gloomily, "why did Aunt Clara look so
worried when she got here?"

"Good gracious! Don't people worry about anything except somebody's
drinking? Where did you get such an idea?"

"Well," he persisted, "you don't KNOW it ain't that."

She laughed again, wholeheartedly. "Poor Uncle John! He won't even allow
grape juice or ginger ale in his house. They came because they were
afraid little Clara might catch the measles. She's very delicate, and
there's such an epidemic of measles among the children over in Dayton
the schools had to be closed. Uncle John got so worried that last night
he dreamed about it; and this morning he couldn't stand it any longer
and packed them off over here, though he thinks its wicked to travel
on Sunday. And Aunt Clara was worried when she got here because they'd
forgotten to check her trunk and it will have to be sent by express. Now
what in the name of the common sense put it into your head that Uncle
John had taken to----"

"Oh, nothing." He turned lifelessly away and went downstairs, a new-born
hope dying in his bosom. Life seems so needlessly