Penrod Page 20

  CHAPTER XX BROTHERS OF ANGELS

  "Indeed, doctor," said Mrs. Schofield, with agitation and profoundconviction, just after eight o'clock that evening, "I shall ALWAYSbelieve in mustard plasters--mustard plasters and hot--water bags. Ifit hadn't been for them I don't believed he'd have LIVED till you gothere--I do NOT!"

  "Margaret," called Mr. Schofield from the open door of a bedroom,"Margaret, where did you put that aromatic ammonia? Where's Margaret?"

  But he had to find the aromatic spirits of ammonia himself, for Margaretwas not in the house. She stood in the shadow beneath a maple treenear the street corner, a guitar-case in her hand; and she scanned withanxiety a briskly approaching figure. The arc light, swinging above,revealed this figure as that of him she awaited. He was passing towardthe gate without seeing her, when she arrested him with a fatefulwhisper.

  "BOB!"

  Mr. Robert Williams swung about hastily. "Why, Margaret!"

  "Here, take your guitar," she whispered hurriedly. "I was afraid iffather happened to find it he'd break it all to pieces!"

  "What for?" asked the startled Robert.

  "Because I'm sure he knows it's yours." "But what----"

  "Oh, Bob," she moaned, "I was waiting here to tell you. I was so afraidyou'd try to come in----"

  "TRY!" exclaimed the unfortunate young man, quite dumfounded. "TRY tocome----"

  "Yes, before I warned you. I've been waiting here to tell you, Bob, youmustn't come near the house if I were you I'd stay away from even thisneighbourhood--far away! For a while I don't think it would be actuallySAFE for----"

  "Margaret, will you please----"

  "It's all on account of that dollar you gave Penrod this morning," shewalled. "First, he bought that horrible concertina that made papa sofurious--"

  "But Penrod didn't tell that I----"

  "Oh, wait!" she cried lamentably. "Listen! He didn't tell at lunch, buthe got home about dinner-time in the most--well! I've seen pale peoplebefore, but nothing like Penrod. Nobody could IMAGINE it--not unlessthey'd seen him! And he looked, so STRANGE, and kept making suchunnatural faces, and at first all he would say was that he'd eaten alittle piece of apple and thought it must have some microbes on it. Buthe got sicker and sicker, and we put him to bed--and then we all thoughthe was going to die--and, of COURSE, no little piece of apple wouldhave--well, and he kept getting worse and then he said he'd had adollar. He said he'd spent it for the concertina, and watermelon, andchocolate-creams, and licorice sticks, and lemon-drops, and peanuts,and jaw-breakers, and sardines, and raspberry lemonade, and pickles, andpopcorn, and ice-cream, and cider, and sausage--there was sausage inhis pocket, and mamma says his jacket is ruined--and cinnamon drops--andwaffles--and he ate four or five lobster croquettes at lunch--and papasaid, 'Who gave you that dollar?' Only he didn't say 'WHO'--he saidsomething horrible, Bob! And Penrod thought he was going to die, and hesaid you gave it to him, and oh! it was just pitiful to hear the poorchild, Bob, because he thought he was dying, you see, and he blamed youfor the whole thing. He said if you'd only let him alone and not givenit to him, he'd have grown up to be a good man--and now he couldn't! Inever heard anything so heart-rending--he was so weak he could hardlywhisper, but he kept trying to talk, telling us over and over it was allyour fault."

  In the darkness Mr. Williams' facial expression could not be seen, buthis voice sounded hopeful.

  "Is he--is he still in a great deal of pain?"

  "They say the crisis is past," said Margaret, "but the doctor's stillup there. He said it was the acutest case of indigestion he had evertreated in the whole course of his professional practice."

  "Of course _I_ didn't know what he'd do with the dollar," said Robert.

  She did not reply.

  He began plaintively, "Margaret, you don't----"

  "I've never seen papa and mamma so upset about anything," she said,rather primly.

  "You mean they're upset about ME?"

  "We ARE all very much upset," returned Margaret, more starch in her toneas she remembered not only Penrod's sufferings but a duty she had vowedherself to perform.

  "Margaret! YOU don't----"

  "Robert," she said firmly and, also, with a rhetorical complexity whichbreeds a suspicion of pre-rehearsal--"Robert, for the present I can onlylook at it in one way: when you gave that money to Penrod you put intothe hands of an unthinking little child a weapon which might be, and,indeed was, the means of his undoing. Boys are not respon----"

  "But you saw me give him the dollar, and you didn't----"

  "Robert!" she checked him with increasing severity. "I am only a womanand not accustomed to thinking everything out on the spur of the moment;but I cannot change my mind. Not now, at least."

  "And you think I'd better not come in to-night?"

  "To-night!" she gasped. "Not for WEEKS! Papa would----"

  "But Margaret," he urged plaintively, "how can you blame me for----"

  "I have not used the word 'blame,'" she interrupted. "But I must insistthat for your carelessness to--to wreak such havoc--cannot fail to--tolessen my confidence in your powers of judgment. I cannot change myconvictions in this matter--not to-night--and I cannot remain hereanother instant. The poor child may need me. Robert, good-night."

  With chill dignity she withdrew, entered the house, and returned to thesick-room, leaving the young man in outer darkness to brood upon hiscrime--and upon Penrod.

  That sincere invalid became convalescent upon the third day; and aweek elapsed, then, before he found an opportunity to leave the houseunaccompanied--save by Duke. But at last he set forth and approached theJones neighbourhood in high spirits, pleasantly conscious of his pallor,hollow cheeks, and other perquisites of illness provocative of interest.

  One thought troubled him a little because it gave him a sense ofinferiority to a rival. He believed, against his will, that MauriceLevy could have successfully eaten chocolate-creams, licorice sticks,lemon-drops, jaw-breakers, peanuts, waffles, lobster croquettes,sardines, cinnamon-drops, watermelon, pickles, popcorn, ice-creamand sausage with raspberry lemonade and cider. Penrod had admitted tohimself that Maurice could do it and afterward attend to business, orpleasure, without the slightest discomfort; and this was probably nomore than a fair estimate of one of the great constitutions of all time.As a digester, Maurice Levy would have disappointed a Borgia.

  Fortunately, Maurice was still at Atlantic City--and now theconvalescent's heart leaped. In the distance he saw Marjorie coming--inpink again, with a ravishing little parasol over her head. And alone! NoMitchy-Mitch was to mar this meeting.

  Penrod increased the feebleness of his steps, now and then leaning uponthe fence as if for support.

  "How do you do, Marjorie?" he said, in his best sick-room voice, as shecame near.

  To his pained amazement, she proceeded on her way, her nose at acelebrated elevation--an icy nose.

  She cut him dead.

  He threw his invalid's airs to the winds, and hastened after her.

  "Marjorie," he pleaded, "what's the matter? Are you mad? Honest, thatday you said to come back next morning, and you'd be on the corner,I was sick. Honest, I was AWFUL sick, Marjorie! I had to have thedoctor----"

  "DOCTOR!" She whirled upon him, her lovely eyes blazing.

  "I guess WE'VE had to have the doctor enough at OUR house, thanks toyou, Mister Penrod Schofield. Papa says you haven't got NEAR senseenough to come in out of the rain, after what you did to poor littleMitchy-Mitch----"

  "What?"

  "Yes, and he's sick in bed YET!" Marjorie went on, with unabated fury."And papa says if he ever catches you in this part of town----"

  "WHAT'D I do to Mitchy-Mitch?" gasped Penrod.

  "You know well enough what you did to Mitchy-Mitch!" she cried. "Yougave him that great, big, nasty two-cent piece!"

  "Well, what of it?"

  "Mitchy-Mitch swallowed it!"

  "What!"

  "And papa says if he ever just lays eyes on you, once, in thisneighbourhood--
--"

  But Penrod had started for home.

  In his embittered heart there was increasing a critical disapproval ofthe Creator's methods. When He made pretty girls, thought Penrod, whycouldn't He have left out their little brothers!