ht be, and,
indeed was, the means of his undoing. Boys are not respon----"

"But you saw me give him the dollar, and you didn't----"

"Robert!" she checked him with increasing severity. "I am only a woman
and not accustomed to thinking everything out on the spur of the moment;
but I cannot change my mind. Not now, at least."

"And you think I'd better not come in to-night?"

"To-night!" she gasped. "Not for WEEKS! Papa would----"

"But Margaret," he urged plaintively, "how can you blame me for----"

"I have not used the word 'blame,'" she interrupted. "But I must insist
that for your carelessness to--to wreak such havoc--cannot fail to--to
lessen my confidence in your powers of judgment. I cannot change my
convictions in this matter--not to-night--and I cannot remain here
another instant. The poor child may need me. Robert, good-night."

With chill dignity she withdrew, entered the house, and returned to the
sick-room, leaving the young man in outer darkness to brood upon his
crime--and upon Penrod.

That sincere invalid became convalescent upon the third day; and a
week elapsed, then, before he found an opportunity to leave the house
unaccompanied--save by Duke. But at last he set forth and approached the
Jones neighbourhood in high spirits, pleasantly conscious of his pallor,
hollow cheeks, and other perquisites of illness provocative of interest.

One thought troubled him a little because it gave him a sense of
inferiority to a rival. He believed, against his will, that Maurice
Levy could have successfully eaten chocolate-creams, licorice sticks,
lemon-drops, jaw-breakers, peanuts, waffles, lobster croquettes,
sardines, cinnamon-drops, watermelon, pickles, popcorn, ice-cream
and sausage with raspberry lemonade and cider. Penrod had admitted to
himself that Maurice could do it and afterward attend to business, or
pleasure, without the slightest discomfort; and this was probably no
more than a fair estimate of one of the great constitutions of all time.
As a digester, Maurice Levy would have disappointed a Borgia.

Fortunately, Maurice was still at Atlantic City--and now the
convalescent's heart leaped. In the distance he saw Marjorie coming--in
pink again, with a ravishing little parasol over her head. And alone! No
Mitchy-Mitch was to mar this meeting.

Penrod increased the feebleness of his steps, now and then leaning upon
the fence as if for support.

"How do you do, Marjorie?" he said, in his best s