hus the trio sped through the coming of autumn dusk, outflying the
fallen leaves that tumbled upon the wind. And still Penrod held to the
task that he had set himself. The street lamps flickered into life, but
on and on Claude Blakely led the lady, and on and on reeled the
grim Penrod. Never once was he so far from them that they could have
exchanged a word unchaperoned by his throbbing ear.

"OH!" Margaret cried, and, halting suddenly, she draped herself about a
lamp-post like a strip of bunting. "Guh-uh-guh-GOODNESS!" she sobbed.

Penrod immediately drooped to the curb-stone, which he reached, by pure
fortune, in a sitting position. Mr. Blakely leaned against a fence, and
said nothing, though his breathing was eloquent. "We--we must go--go
home," Margaret gasped. "We must, if--if we can drag ourselves!"

Then Penrod showed them what mettle they he'd tried to crack. A paroxysm
of coughing shook him; he spoke through it sobbingly:

"'Drag!' 'S jus' lul-like a girl! Ha-why I walk--OOF!--faster'n that
every day--on my--way to school." He managed to subjugate a tendency to
nausea. "What you--want to go--home for?" he said. "Le's go on!"

In the darkness Mr. Claude Blakely's expression could not be seen,
nor was his voice heard. For these and other reasons, his opinions and
sentiments may not be stated.

... Mrs. Schofield was looking rather anxiously forth from her front
door when the two adult figures and the faithful smaller one came up the
walk.

"I was getting uneasy," she said. "Papa and I came in and found the
house empty. It's after seven. Oh, Mr. Blakely, is that you?"

"Good-evening," he said. "I fear I must be keeping an engagement.
Good-night. Good-night, Miss Schofield."

"Good-night."

"Well, good-night," Penrod called, staring after him. But Mr. Blakely
was already too far away to hear him, and a moment later Penrod followed
his mother and sister into the house.

"I let Della go to church," Mrs. Schofield said to Margaret. "You and I
might help Katie get supper."

"Not for a few minutes," Margaret returned gravely, looking at Penrod.
"Come upstairs, mamma; I want to tell you something."

Penrod cackled hoarse triumph and defiance.

"Go on! Tell! What _'I_ care? You try to poison a person in church
again, and then laugh in his face, you'll see what you get!"

But after his mother had retired with Margaret to the latter's room, he
began to feel disturbed in spite of his firm belief that his cau