Connecticut western news., 1915-06-10

Nothing" he returned, striding to the open window and looking out. ''Go on.'
 ''Oh.' she moaned. Tt must be kept From Clara And I'll never hold up my head again if John Parry ever hears of it.''
 Hears of what?"
 Well, I just couldn't stand it, I got so curious. And I thought, of course, if Miss Spence had become d little unbalanced it was my duty to know it as Penrod's mother and she his teacher. So I thought 1 woulc just call on her at her apartment after school and have chat and see. And 1 did. and-oh"-
 "Well?"
 i've just come from there. and she told me-she told me! Oh, I've never known anything like this!'
 What did she tell yoI:"
 Mrs. Schofield, making great eff fort, managed to assume a temporary appearance of calm. Henry" she said solemnly, bear this i'll mind. whatever you do to Penrod it must be done i'll some place when Clara won't hear it. But the first thing to do is to find him"
 Within view of the window from which MT. Schofield was gazing was the closed door of the storeroom in the stable. and just outside this door Duke was performing a most engaging trick.
 His young master had taught Duke tot sit up and beg" when he wanted anything. and if that didn't get it to speak" Duke was facing the closed door and sitting up and begging, and now he also spoke-in a loud, clear bark
 There was an open transom over the door, and from this descended-hurled by an unseen agency-a can half filled with old paint.
 It caught the small besieger of the door on his thoroughly surprised right ear. encouraged him tp some remarlSa- ble acrobatics and turned large DOT tions of him dull blue. Allowing only moment to perpleXity and decid- ing after a single and evidently unap- petizing experiment not to cleanse him. self of paint. the loyal animal resumed his quaint, upright posture.
 MT. Schofield seated himself on the window sill. whence he could keep in view that pathetic picture of unrequit- ed love.
 "Go on with your story, mammal" he said. "I think can find Penrod when we want him."
 And a few minutes later he added. And think I know the place to do it in"
 Again the faithful voice of Duke was heard pleading outside the bolted door.
 
 Penrod entered the schoolroom Mon day morning picturesquely leaning upon a mans cane, shortened to sup port a cripple approaching the age of twelve. He arrived about twenty min- utes late, limping deeply, his brave young mouth drawn with pain, and the sensation he created must have been a solace to him, the only possible crit icism of this entrance being that 1t was just a shade too heroic. Perhaps for that reason it failed to stagger Miss Spence, q woman so saturated with suspicion that she penalized Pen rod for tardiness as promptly and as coldly as if he had been q mere. or dinary, unmutilated boy. Nor would she entertain any discussion of the justice of her ruling. It seemed almost that she feared to argue with him.
 However, the distinction of cane and limp remained to him, cancellations which he protracted far into the week until Thursday evening, in fact, when Mir Schofield, observing from a win dow his sons pursuit of Duke round and round the back yard, confiscated the cane, with the promise that it should n4 remain idle if he saw Pen rod limping again. Thus, succeeding a depressing Friday, another Saturday brought the necessity for new inven- tions.
 It was a scented morning in apple blossom time. At about ten of the clock Penrod emerged hastily from the kitchen door. His pockets bulged abnormally, so did his cheeks, and he swallowed with difficulty. 4 threat ening mop. wielded by a cooklike arm in checkered sleeve, followed him through the doorway, and he was pre- ceded by q small, hurried, wistful dog with n warm doughnut in his mouth. The kitchen door slammed petulantly. inclosing the sore voice of Della, where upon Penrod and Duke seated them selves upon the pleasant sward and immediately consumed the spells of their raid.
 From the cross street which formed the side boundary of the Schofields' ample yard came a jingle of harness and the cadenced chatter of a pair of trotting horses, and Penrod, looking up. beheld the passing of q fat ac- quaintance, torpid amid the conserva- tive splendors of a rather old fashion ed victoria. This was Roderick Mags- worth Bitts, Jr., a fellow sufferer