you!" Herman waved his arm in farewell, implying that the matter
was of little significance, and vanished. But if they had
understood him, Penrod and Sam might have considered his inquiry
of instant importance, for Herman's last shout was to ask if
either of them had noticed "where Verman went."

Verman and Verman's whereabouts were, at this hour, of no more
concern to Sam and Penrod than was the other side of the moon.
That unfortunate bonded prisoner had been long since utterly
effaced from their fields of consciousness, and the dark secret
of their Bastille troubled them not--for the main and simple
reason that they had forgotten it.

They drifted indoors, and found Sam's mother's white cat drowsing
on a desk in the library, the which coincidence obviously
inspired the experiment of ascertaining how successfully ink
could be used in making a clean white cat look like a coach-dog.
There was neither malice nor mischief in their idea; simply, a
problem presented itself to the biological and artistic
questionings beginning to stir within them. They did not mean to
do the cat the slightest injury or to cause her any pain. They
were above teasing cats, and they merely detained this one and
made her feel a little wet--at considerable cost to themselves
from both the ink and the cat. However, at the conclusion of
their efforts, it was thought safer to drop the cat out of the
window before anybody came, and, after some hasty work with
blotters, the desk was moved to cover certain sections of the
rug, and the two boys repaired to the bathroom for hot water and
soap. They knew they had done nothing wrong; but they felt easier
when the only traces remaining upon them were the less prominent