“They WEREN'T cold. I don't want any ole hot-wat—”
“Penrod,” she said firmly, “you must put your feet against the bag. It isn't too hot.”
“Oh, isn't it?” he retorted. “I don't s'pose you'd care if I burned my feet right off! Mamma, won't you please, pul-LEEZE let me get some sleep?”
“Not till you—”
She was interrupted by a groan that seemed to come from an abyss.
“All right, I'll do it! Let 'em burn, then!” Thus spake the desperate Penrod; and Mrs. Schofield was able to ascertain that one heel had been placed in light contact with the bag.
“No; both feet, Penrod.”
With a tragic shiver he obeyed.
“THAT'S right, dear! Now, keep them that way. It's good for you. Good-night.”
“G'-night!”