Mr. Kinosling looked pleasantly at his fingers as he spoke, waving his hand in a curving gesture which brought it into the light of a window faintly illumined from the interior of the house. Then he passed those graceful fingers over his hair, and turned toward Penrod, who was perched upon the railing in a dark corner.
“The evening is touched with a slight coolness,” said Mr. Kinosling. “Perhaps I may request the little gentleman——”
“B'gr-r-RUFF!” coughed Mr. Schofield. “You'd better change your mind about a cigar.”
“No, I thank you. I was about to request the lit——”
“DO try one,” Margaret urged. “I'm sure papa's are nice ones. Do try——”
“No, I thank you. I remarked a slight coolness in the air, and my hat is in the hallway. I was about to request——”
“I'll get it for you,” said Penrod suddenly.
“If you will be so good,” said Mr. Kinosling. “It is a black bowler hat, little gentleman, and placed upon a table in the hall.”
“I know where it is.” Penrod entered the door, and a feeling of relief, mutually experienced, carried from one to another of his three relatives their interchanged congratulations that he had recovered his sanity.
“'The day is done, and the darkness,'” began Mr. Kinosling—and recited that poem entire. He followed it with “The Children's Hour,” and after a pause, at the close, to allow his listeners time for a little reflection upon his rendition, he passed his handagain over his head, and called, in the direction of the doorway: