The accepted theory was that Penrod had been arrested.
How breathtaking, then, the sensation when, at the beginning of the
second hour, he strolled--in with inimitable carelessness and, rubbing
his eyes, somewhat noticeably in the manner of one who has snatched an
hour of much needed sleep, took his place as if nothing in particular
had happened. This, at first supposed to be a superhuman exhibition
of sheer audacity, became but the more dumfounding when Miss
Spence--looking up from her desk--greeted him with a pleasant little
nod. Even after school, Penrod gave numerous maddened investigators no
relief. All he would consent to say was:
"Oh, I just TALKED to her."
A mystification not entirely unconnected with the one thus produced was
manifested at his own family dinner-table the following evening. Aunt
Clara had been out rather late, and came to the table after the rest
were seated. She wore a puzzled expression.
"Do you ever see Mary Spence nowadays?" she inquired, as she unfolded
her napkin, addressing Mrs. Schofield. Penrod abruptly set down his
soup-spoon and gazed at his aunt with flattering attention.
"Yes; sometimes," said Mrs. Schofield. "She's Penrod's teacher."
"Is she?" said Mrs. Farry. "Do you--" She paused. "Do people think her a
little--queer, these days?"
"Why, no," returned her sister. "What makes you say that?"
"She has acquired a very odd manner," said Mrs. Farry decidedly. "At
least, she seemed odd to ME.
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