"I should think he'd have been glad to," said Mr. Schofield. "Who was
he?"
"Sir?" In spite of the candy which he had consumed in company with
Marjorie and Mitchy-Mitch, Penrod had begun to eat lobster croquettes
earnestly.
"Who WAS he?"
"Who do you mean, papa?"
"The man that gave you that ghastly Thing!"
"Yessir. A man gave it to me."
"I say, Who WAS he?" shouted Mr. Schofield.
"Well, I was just walking along, and the man came up to me--it was right
down in front of Colgate's, where most of the paint's rubbed off the
fence----"
"Penrod!" The father used his most dangerous tone.
"Sir?"
"Who was the man that gave you the concertina?"
"I don't know. I was walking along----"
"You never saw him before?"
"No, sir. I was just walk----"
"That will do," said Mr. Schofield, rising. "I suppose every family has
its secret enemies and this was one of ours. I must ask to be excused!"
With that, he went out crossly, stopping in the hall a moment before
passing beyond hearing. And, after lunch, Penrod sought in vain for his
accordion; he even searched the library where his father sat reading,
though, upon inquiry, Penrod explained that he was looking for a
misplaced schoolbook. He thought he ought to study a little every day,
he said, even during vacation-time. Much pleased, Mr. Schofield rose and
joined the search, finding the missing work on mathematics with singular
ease--which cost him precisely the price of the book the following
September.
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