autiful," began Mrs. Schofield. "Beautiful, beautiful,
beautiful, beautiful----"

It is not known in what light Mr. Kinosling viewed the expression of
Penrod's face. Perhaps he mistook it for awe; perhaps he received
no impression at all of its extraordinary quality. He was a rather
self-engrossed young man, just then engaged in a double occupation, for
he not only talked, but supplied from his own consciousness a critical
though favourable auditor as well, which of course kept him quite busy.
Besides, it is oftener than is expected the case that extremely peculiar
expressions upon the countenances of boys are entirely overlooked,
and suggest nothing to the minds of people staring straight at them.
Certainly Penrod's expression--which, to the perception of his family,
was perfectly horrible--caused not the faintest perturbation in the
breast of Mr. Kinosling.

Mr. Kinosling waived the chicken, and continued to talk. "Yes, I think
I may claim to understand boys," he said, smiling thoughtfully. "One
has been a boy one's self. Ah, it is not all playtime! I hope our young
scholar here does not overwork himself at his Latin, at his classics,
as I did, so that at the age of eight years I was compelled to wear
glasses. He must be careful not to strain the little eyes at his
scholar's tasks, not to let the little shoulders grow round over his
scholar's desk. Youth is golden; we should keep it golden, bright,
glistening. Youth should frolic, should be sprightly; it should play its
cricket, its tennis, its hand-ball. It should run and leap; it should
laugh, should sing madrigals and glees, carol with the lark, ring out in
chanties, folk-songs, ballads, roundelays----"

He talked on. At any instant Mr. Schofield held himself ready to cough
vehemently and shout, "More chicken," to drown out Penrod in case the
fatal words again fell from those eloquent lips; and Mrs. Schofield and
Margaret kept themselves prepared at all times to assist him. So passed
a threatening meal, which Mrs. Schofield hurried, by every means with
decency, to its conclusion. She felt that somehow they would all be
safer out in the dark of the front porch, and led the way thither as
soon as possible.

"No cigar, I thank you." Mr. Kinosling, establishing himself in a wicker
chair beside Margaret, waved away her father's proffer. "I do not smoke.
I have never tasted tobacco in any form." Mrs. Schofield was confirmed
in her opinion that this would be an ideal