When Aunt Clara and her little
baby daughter got to our house last night----"
"You say Mrs. Farry is visiting your mother?"
"Yes'm--not just visiting--you see, she HAD to come. Well of course,
little baby Clara, she was so bruised up and mauled, where he'd been
hittin' her with his cane----"
"You mean that your uncle had done such a thing as THAT!" exclaimed Miss
Spence, suddenly disarmed by this scandal.
"Yes'm, and mamma and Margaret had to sit up all night nursin' little
Clara--and AUNT Clara was in such a state SOMEBODY had to keep talkin'
to HER, and there wasn't anybody but me to do it, so I----"
"But where was your father?" she cried.
"Ma'am?"
"Where was your father while----"
"Oh--papa?" Penrod paused, reflected; then brightened. "Why, he was down
at the train, waitin' to see if Uncle John would try to follow 'em and
make 'em come home so's he could persecute 'em some more. I wanted to do
that, but they said if he did come I mightn't be strong enough to
hold him and----" The brave lad paused again, modestly. Miss Spence's
expression was encouraging. Her eyes were wide with astonishment, and
there may have been in them, also, the mingled beginnings of admiration
and self-reproach. Penrod, warming to his work, felt safer every moment.
"And so," he continued, "I had to sit up with Aunt Clara. She had some
pretty big bruises, too, and I had to----"
"But why didn't they send for a doctor?" However, this question was only
a flicker of dying incredulity.
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