self-contained and gentlemanly manner, down the stairs.

"Carlie Chitten!" she cried. "You poor dear child, you're
soaking! To think those outrageous little fiends wouldn't even
spare YOU!" As she spoke, another departing male guest came from
behind Carlie and placed in her hand a snakelike article--a thing
that Miss Lowe seized and concealed with one sweeping gesture.

"It's some false hair somebody must of put in my overcoat
pocket," said Roderick Magsworth Bitts. "Well, 'g-night. Thank
you for a very nice time."

"Good-night, Miss Rennsdale," said Master Chitten demurely.
"Thank you for a--"

But Miss Rennsdale detained him. "Carrie," she said earnestly,
"you're a dear boy, and I know you'll tell me something. It was
all Penrod Schofield, wasn't it?"

"You mean he left the--"

"I mean," she said, in a low tone, not altogether devoid of
ferocity. "I mean it was Penrod who left the faucets running, and
Penrod who tied the boys' shoes together, and filled some of them
with soap and mucilage, and put Miss Lowe's hair in Roddy Bitts's
overcoat. No; look me in the eye, Carlie! They were all shouting
that silly thing he started. Didn't he do it?"

Carlie cast down thoughtful eyes. "I wouldn't like to tell, Miss
Rennsdale," he said. "I guess I better be going or I'll catch