CHAPTER X. CONSCIENCE
Mrs. Schofield had been away for three days, visiting her sisterin Dayton, Illinois, and on the train, coming back, she fell into areverie. Little dramas of memory were reenacted in her pensive mind, andthrough all of them moved the figure of Penrod as a principal figure, orstar. These little dramas did not present Penrod as he really was,much less did they glow with the uncertain but glamorous light in whichPenrod saw himself. No; Mrs. Schofield had indulged herself in absencefrom her family merely for her own pleasure, and, now that she washomeward bound, her conscience was asserting itself; the fact that shehad enjoyed her visit began to take on the aspect of a crime.
She had heard from her family only once during the three days--themessage "All well don't worry enjoy yourself" telegraphed by Mr.Schofield, and she had followed his suggestions to a reasonable extent.Of course she had worried--but only at times; wherefore she now sufferedmore and more poignant pangs of shame because she had not worriedconstantly. Naturally, the figure of Penrod, in her railway reverie, wasthat of an invalid.
She recalled all the illnesses of his babyhood and all those of hisboyhood. She reconstructed scene after scene, with the hero alwaysprostrate and the family physician opening the black case of phials. Sheemphatically renewed her recollection of accidental misfortunes to thebody of Penrod Schofield, omitting neither the considerable nor theinconsiderable, forgetting no strain, sprain, cut, bruise or dislocationof which she had knowledge. And running this film in a sequenceunrelieved by brighter interludes, she produced a biographical pictureof such consistent and unremittent gloom that Penrod's past appeared tojustify disturbing thoughts about his present and future.
She became less and less at ease, reproaching herself for having goneaway, wondering how she had brought herself to do such a crazy thing,for it seemed to her that the members of her family were almost helplesswithout her guidance; they were apt to do anything--anything at all--orto catch anything. The more she thought about her having left theseirresponsible harebrains unprotected and undirected for three days, theless she was able to account for her action. It seemed to her thatshe must have been a little flighty; but, shaking her head grimly, shedecided that flightiness was not a good excuse. And she made up her mindthat if, upon her arrival, she found poor little neglected Penrod (andMargaret and Mr. Schofield) spared to her, safe and sound, she wouldmake up to them--especially to Penrod--for all her lack of care in thepast, and for this present wild folly of spending three whole days andnights with her sister, far away in Dayton, Illinois. Consequently,when Mrs. Schofield descended from that train, she wore the hurried butdetermined expression that was always the effect upon her of a guiltyconscience.
"You're SURE Penrod is well now?" she repeated, after Mr. Schofield hadseated himself at her side in a vehicle known to its driver as a "deepoehack".
"'Well NOW?'" he said. "He's been well all the time. I've told you twicethat he's all right."
"Men can't always see." She shook her head impatiently. "I haven't beena bit sure he was well lately. I don't think he's been really well fortwo or three months. How has he seemed to-day?"
"In fair health," Mr. Schofield replied thoughtfully. "Della called meup at the office to tell me that one of the telephone-men had come intothe house to say that if that durn boy didn't quit climbing their polesthey'd have him arrested. They said he--"
"That's it!" Mrs. Schofield interrupted quickly. "He's nervous. It'ssome nervous trouble makes him act like that. He's not like himself atall."
"Sometimes," Mr. Schofield said, "I wish he weren't."
"When he's himself," Mrs. Schofield went on anxiously, "he's very quietand good; he doesn't go climbing telegraph-poles and reckless thingslike that. And I noticed before I went away that he was growing twitchy,and seemed to be getting the habit of making unpleasant little noises inhis throat."
"Don't fret about that," her husband said. "He was trying to learn SamWilliams's imitation of a bullfrog's croak. I used to do that myselfwhen I was a boy. Gl-glump, gallump! No; I can't do it now. But nearlyall boys feel obliged to learn it."
"You're entirely mistaken, Henry," she returned a little sharply. "Thatisn't the way he goes in his throat. Penrod is getting to be a VERYnervous boy, and he makes noises because he can't help it. He workspart of his face, too, sometimes, so much that I've been afraid it wouldinterfere with his looks."
"Interfere with his what?" For the moment, Mr. Schofield seemed to bedazed.
"When he's himself," she returned crisply, "he's quite a handsome boy."
"He is?"
"Handsomer than the average, anyhow," Mrs. Schofield said firmly. "Nowonder you don't see it--when we've let his system get all run down likethis!"
"Good heavens!" the mystified Mr. Schofield murmured. "Penrod's systemhasn't been running down; it's just the same as it always was. He'sabsolutely all right."
"Indeed he is not!" she said severely. "We've got to take better care ofhim than we have been."
"Why, how could--"
"I know what I'm talking about," she interrupted. "Penrod is anythingbut a strong boy, and it's all our fault. We haven't been watchfulenough of his health; that's what's the matter with him and makes him sonervous."
Thus she continued, and, as she talked on, Mr. Schofield began, byimperceptible processes, to adopt her views. As for Mrs. Schofieldherself, these views became substantial by becoming vocal. This is tosay, with all deference, that as soon as she heard herself statingthem she was convinced that they accurately represented facts. And thedetermined look in her eyes deepened when the "deepoe hack" turned thefamiliar corner and she saw Penrod running to the gate, followed byDuke.
Never had Penrod been so glad to greet his mother. Never was he moreboisterous in the expression of happiness of that kind. And the tokensof his appetite at dinner, a little later, were extraordinary. Mr.Schofield began to feel reassured in spite of himself; but Mrs.Schofield shook her head.
"Don't you see? It's abnormal!" she said, in a low, decisive voice.
That night Penrod awoke from a sweet, conscienceless slumber--or,rather, he was awakened. A wrappered form lurked over him in the gloom.
"Uff--ow--" he muttered, and turned his face from the dim light thatshone through the doorway. He sighed and sought the depths of sleepagain.
"Penrod," his mother said softly, and, while he resisted feebly, sheturned him over to face her.
"Gawn lea' me 'lone," he muttered.
Then, as a little sphere touched his lips, he jerked his head away,startled.
"Whassat?"
Mrs. Schofield replied in tones honeysweet and coaxing: "It's just anice little pill, Penrod."
"Doe waw 'ny!" he protested, keeping his eyes shut, clinging to thesleep from which he was being riven.
"Be a good boy, Penrod," she whispered. "Here's a glass of nice coolwater to swallow it down with. Come, dear; it's going to do you lots ofgood."
And again the little pill was placed suggestively against his lips; buthis head jerked backward, and his hand struck out in blind, instinctiveself-defense.
"I'll BUST that ole pill," he muttered, still with closed eyes. "Lemmeget my han's on it an' I will!"
"Penrod!"
"PLEASE go on away, mamma!"
"I will, just as soon as you take this little pill."
"I DID!"
"No, dear."
"I did," Penrod insisted plaintively. "You made me take it just before Iwent to bed."
"Oh, yes; THAT one. But, dearie," Mrs. Schofield explained, "I got tothinking about it after I went to bed, and I decided you'd better haveanother."
"I don't WANT another."
"Yes, dearie."
"Please go 'way and let me sleep."
"Not till you've taken the little pill, dear."
"Oh, GOLLY!" Groaning, he propped himself upon an elbow and allowed thepill to pass between his lips. (He would have allowed anything whateverto pass between them, if that passing permitted his return to slumber.)Then,
detaining the pill in his mouth, he swallowed half a glass ofwater, and again was recumbent.
"G'-night, Mamma."
"Good-night, dearie. Sleep well."
"Yes'm."
After her departure Penrod drowsily enjoyed the sugar coating of thepill; but this was indeed a brief pleasure. A bitterness that was likea pang suddenly made itself known to his sense of taste, and he realizedthat he had dallied too confidingly with the product of a manufacturingchemist who should have been indicted for criminal economy. Themedicinal portion of the little pill struck the wall with a faint tap,then dropped noiselessly to the floor, and, after a time, Penrod slept.
Some hours later he began to dream; he dreamed that his feet and legswere becoming uncomfortable as a result of Sam Williams's activitieswith a red-hot poker.
"You QUIT that!" he said aloud, and awoke indignantly. Again a dark,wrappered figure hovered over the bed.
"It's only a hot-water bag, dear," Mrs. Schofield said, still labouringunder the covers with an extended arm. "You mustn't hunch yourself upthat way, Penrod. Put your feet down on it."
And, as he continued to hunch himself, she moved the bag in thedirection of his withdrawal.
"Ow, murder!" he exclaimed convulsively. "What you tryin' to do? Scaldme to death?"
"Penrod--"
"My goodness, Mamma," he wailed; "can't you let me sleep a MINUTE?"
"It's very bad for you to let your feet get cold, dear."
"They WEREN'T cold. I don't want any ole hot-wat--"
"Penrod," she said firmly, "you must put your feet against the bag. Itisn't too hot."
"Oh, isn't it?" he retorted. "I don't s'pose you'd care if I burnedmy feet right off! Mamma, won't you please, pul-LEEZE let me get somesleep?"
"Not till you--"
She was interrupted by a groan that seemed to come from an abyss.
"All right, I'll do it! Let 'em burn, then!" Thus spake the desperatePenrod; and Mrs. Schofield was able to ascertain that one heel had beenplaced in light contact with the bag.
"No; both feet, Penrod."
With a tragic shiver he obeyed.
"THAT'S right, dear! Now, keep them that way. It's good for you.Good-night."
"G'-night!"
The door closed softly behind her, and the body of Penrod, from the hipsupward, rose invisibly in the complete darkness of the bedchamber.A moment later the hot-water bag reached the floor in as noiseless amanner as that previously adopted by the remains of the little pill,and Penrod once more bespread his soul with poppies. This time he sleptuntil the breakfast-bell rang.
He was late to school, and at once found himself in difficulties.Government demanded an explanation of the tardiness; but Penrod made noreply of any kind. Taciturnity is seldom more strikingly out of placethan under such circumstances, and the penalties imposed took accountnot only of Penrod's tardiness but of his supposititious defiance ofauthority in declining to speak. The truth was that Penrod did not knowwhy he was tardy, and, with mind still lethargic, found it impossibleto think of an excuse his continuing silence being due merely to thepersistence of his efforts to invent one. Thus were his meek searchingsmisinterpreted, and the unloved hours of improvement in science and thearts made odious.
"They'll SEE!" he whispered sorely to himself, as he bent low over hisdesk, a little later. Some day he would "show 'em". The picture in hismind was of a vast, vague assembly of people headed by Miss Spenceand the superior pupils who were never tardy, and these multitudes,representing persecution and government in general, were all cringingbefore a Penrod Schofield who rode a grim black horse up and down theirmiserable ranks, and gave curt orders.
"Make 'em step back there!" he commanded his myrmidons savagely. "Fixit so's your horses'll step on their feet if they don't do what I say!"Then, from his shining saddle, he watched the throngs slinking away. "Iguess they know who I am NOW!"
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