“You mean about Penrod's being a comfort?”
“Yes, and I kept thinking and thinking and thinking about it till I couldn't stand it any——”
“By GEORGE!” shouted Mr. Schofield startlingly, stooping to look under the piano. A statement that he had suddenly remembered his son's presence would be lacking in accuracy, for the highly sensitized Penrod was, in fact, no longer present. No more was Duke, his faithful dog.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” he returned, striding to the open window and looking out. “Go on.”
“Oh,” she moaned, “it must be kept from Clara—and I'll never hold up my head again if John Farry ever hears of it!”
“Hears of WHAT?”
“Well, I just couldn't stand it, I got so curious; and I thought of course if Miss Spence HAD become a little unbalanced it was my duty to know it, as Penrod's mother and she his teacher; so I thought I would just call on her at her apartment after school and have a chat and see and I did and—oh——”
“Well?”
“I've just come from there, and she told me—she told me! Oh, I've NEVER known anything like this!”