y survivals of the
respectable portion of his Sunday adventures, his theme became more
exalted; and, only partially misquoting a phrase from a psalm, he
related how he had made it of comfort to Aunt Clara, and how he had
besought her to seek Higher guidance in her trouble.

The surprising thing about a structure such as Penrod was erecting is
that the taller it becomes the more ornamentation it will stand. Gifted
boys have this faculty of building magnificence upon cobwebs--and Penrod
was gifted. Under the spell of his really great performance, Miss Spence
gazed more and more sweetly upon the prodigy of spiritual beauty and
goodness before her, until at last, when Penrod came to the explanation
of his "just thinking," she was forced to turn her head away.

"You mean, dear," she said gently, "that you were all worn out and
hardly knew what you were saying?"

"Yes'm."

"And you were thinking about all those dreadful things so hard that you
forgot where you were?"

"I was thinking," he said simply, "how to save Uncle John."

And the end of it for this mighty boy was that the teacher kissed him!

CHAPTER XI FIDELITY OF A LITTLE DOG

The returning students, that afternoon, observed that Penrod's desk was
vacant--and nothing could have been more impressive than that sinister
mere emptiness. The accepted theory was that Penrod had been arrested.
How breathtaking, then, the sensation when, at the beginning of the
second hour, he strolled--in with inimitable carelessness and, rubbing
his eyes, somewhat noticeably in the manner of one who has snatched an
hour of much needed sleep, took his place as if nothing in particular
had happened. This, at first supposed to be a superhuman exhibition
of sheer audacity, became but the more dumfounding when Miss
Spence--looking up from her desk--greeted him with a pleasant little
nod. Even after school, Penrod gave numerous maddened investigators no
relief. All he would consent to say was:

"Oh, I just TALKED to her."

A mystification not entirely unconnected with the one thus produced was
manifested at his own family dinner-table the following evening. Aunt
Clara had been out rather late, and came to the table after the rest
were seated. She wore a puzzled expression.

"Do you ever see Mary Spence nowadays?" she inquired, as she unfolded
her napkin, addressing Mrs. Schofield. Penrod abruptly set down his
soup-spoon and gazed at his aunt with flattering attention.

"Yes; so