"Ma'am?"
"About as much as he'd understand Sitting Bull!" she laughed. "And I'll tell you what your mother thinks you are, Penrod. Her real belief is that you're a novice in a convent."
"Ma'am?"
"Aunt Sarah!"
"I know she thinks that, because whenever you don't behave like a novice she's disappointed in you. And your father really believes that you're a decorous, well-trained young business man, and whenever you don't live up to that standard you get on his nerves and he thinks you need a walloping. I'm sure a day very seldom passes without their both saying they don't know what on earth to do with you. Does whipping do you any good, Penrod?"
"Ma'am?"
"Go on and finish the lemonade; there's about a glassful left. Oh, take it, take it; and don't say why! Of course you're a little pig."
Penrod laughed gratefully, his eyes fixed upon her over the rim of his up tilted glass.
"Fill yourself up uncomfortably," said the old lady. "You're twelve years old, and you ought to be happy—if you aren't anything else. It's
