"What YOU got on?" he repeated.
"Oh, nothin'," said Penrod, with an indifference assumed at great cost
to his nervous system.
The elate Maurice was inspired to set up as a wit. "Then you're nakid!"
he shouted exultantly. "Penrod Schofield says he hasn't got nothin' on
under that ole golf cape! He's nakid! He's nakid."
The indelicate little girls giggled delightedly, and a javelin pierced
the inwards of Penrod when he saw that the Child Elaine, amber-curled
and beautiful Marjorie Jones, lifted golden laughter to the horrid jest.
Other boys and girls came flocking to the uproar. "He's nakid, he's
nakid!" shrieked the Child Sir Galahad. "Penrod Schofield's nakid! He's
NA-A-A-KID!"
"Hush, hush!" said Mrs. Lora Rewbush, pushing her way into the group.
"Remember, we are all little knights and ladies to-day. Little knights
and ladies of the Table Round would not make so much noise. Now
children, we must begin to take our places on the stage. Is everybody
here?"
Penrod made his escape under cover of this diversion: he slid behind
Mrs. Lora Rewbush, and being near a door, opened it unnoticed and went
out quickly, closing it behind him. He found himself in a narrow and
vacant hallway which led to a door marked "Janitor's Room."
Burning with outrage, heart-sick at the sweet, cold-blooded laughter
of Marjorie Jones, Penrod rested his elbows upon a window-sill and
speculated upon the effects of a leap from the second story.
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