"Now just go in and wait for me," he said, opening the door of the sitting room. "I won't be gone a minute."
Wondering where Mrs. Medulla was Bee sat down. She knew the iron of ridicule had sunk deep into Percival's soul, and she feared for the result. If his mother would but enter soon, the girl reflected, she need not feel any responsibility in the matter. As the moments glided by, however, and no Mrs. Medulla appeared, she was assailed by a sense of uneasiness.
"What do you think of these?" exclaimed Percival, bounding into the room presently. "Look, Beefly! Aren't they great?"
Somewhere the boy had unearthed a pair of long trousers, a coat, and a real shirt with collar and tie. He whirled about for her inspection delightedly.
"Not much Fauntleroy about these, eh?" he said complacently. "What do you think of them?"
Bee was so relieved that she laughed outright.
"You don't look like the same boy, Percival. Do you think you could play your violin in those clothes?"
"Why of course I can," he declared. "I'll show you; but first—"
He ran to his mother's machine, and opening a drawer took out a pair of large shears. Bee ran toward him quickly.
"You must not do that, Percival," she cried. "Oh, where is your mother?"