soap and mucilage in YOUR shoes, anybody'd know some other boy
must of put 'em there to get even for what you put in his."

Penrod gasped.

"But I DIDN'T!" he cried. "I didn't do ANYTHING! That ole Miss
Rennsdale can say what she wants to, I didn't do--"

"Well, anyway, Penrod," said Marjorie, softly, "they can't ever
PROVE it was you."

He felt himself suffocating in a coil against which no struggle
availed.

"But I never DID it!" he wailed, helplessly. "I never did
anything at all!"

She leaned toward him a little, and the lights from her waiting
carriage illumined her dimly, but enough for him to see that her
look was fond and proud, yet almost awed.

"Anyway, Penrod," she whispered, "_I_ don't believe there's any
other boy in the whole world could of done HALF as much!"

And with that, she left him, and ran out to the carriage.

But Penrod remained by the gate to wait for Sam, and the burden
of his sorrows was beginning to lift. In fact, he felt a great
deal better, in spite of his having just discovered why Marjorie
loved him.