cold. Thank you for a very nice time."

"There!" said Miss Rennsdale vehemently, as Carlie went on his
way. "What did I tell you? Carlie Chitten's too manly to say it,
but I just KNOW it was that terrible Penrod Schofield."

Behind her, a low voice, unheard by all except the person to whom
it spoke, repeated a part of this speech: "What did I tell you?"

This voice belonged to one Penrod Schofield.

Penrod and Marjorie had descended by another stairway, and he now
considered it wiser to pass to the rear of the little party at
the foot of the stairs. As he was still in his pumps, his choked
shoes occupying his overcoat pockets, he experienced no
difficulty in reaching the front door, and getting out of it
unobserved, although the noise upstairs was greatly abated.
Marjorie, however, made her curtseys and farewells in a
creditable manner.

"There!" Penrod said again, when she rejoined him in the darkness
outside. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say I'd get the blame of
it, no matter if the house went and fell down? I s'pose they
think I put mucilage and soap in my own shoes."

Marjorie delayed at the gate until some eagerly talking little
girls had passed out. The name "Penrod Schofield" was thick and
scandalous among them.

"Well," said Marjorie, "_I_ wouldn't care, Penrod. 'Course, about