Marjorie laughed airily. “Well, if you aren't the foolishest—”
“They would, too,” he asserted, with renewed bitterness. “If the house was to fall down, you'd see! They'd all say—”
Marjorie interrupted him. She put her hand on the top of her head, looking a little startled.
“What's that?” she said.
“What's what?”
“Like rain!” Marjorie cried. “Like it was raining in here! A drop fell on my—”
“Why, it couldn't—” he began. But at this instant a drop fell upon his head, too, and, looking up, they beheld a great oozing splotch upon the ceiling. Drops were gathering upon it and falling; the tinted plaster was cracking, and a little stream began to patter down and splash upon the floor. Then there came a resounding thump upstairs, just above them, and fragments of wet plaster fell.
“The roof must be leaking,” said Marjorie, beginning to be alarmed.
“Couldn't be the roof,” said Penrod. “Besides there ain't any rain outdoors.”
As he spoke, a second slender stream of water began to patter upon the floor of the hall outside the door.