She stood, evidently expecting them to precede her. To linger might renew vague suspicion, causing it to become more definite; and boys preserve themselves from moment to moment, not often attempting to secure the future. Consequently, the apprehensive Sam and the unfortunate Penrod (with the monstrous implement bulking against his ribs) walked out of the room and down the stairs, their countenances indicating an interior condition of solemnity. And a curious shade of behaviour might have here interested a criminologist. Penrod endeavoured to keep as close to Sam as possible, like a lonely person seeking company, while, on the other hand, Sam kept moving away from Penrod, seeming to desire an appearance of aloofness.
“Go into the library, boys,” said Mrs. Williams, as the three reached the foot of the stairs. “I'll bring you your cookies. Papa's in there.”
Under her eye the two entered the library, to find Mr. Williams reading his evening paper. He looked up pleasantly, but it seemed to Penrod that he had an ominous and penetrating expression.
“What have you been up to, you boys?” inquired this enemy.
“Nothing,” said Sam. “Different things.”
“What like?”
“Oh—just different things.”
Mr. Williams nodded; then his glance rested casually upon Penrod.
“What's the matter with your arm, Penrod?”
Penrod became paler, and Sam withdrew from him almost conspicuously.