"Of course it was dreadful," said Mrs. Schofield, an hour later, rendering her lord an account of the day, "but it was every bit the fault of that one extraordinary child. And of all the quiet, demure little things—that is, I mean, when she first came. We all spoke of how exquisite she seemed—so well trained, so finished! Eleven years old! I never saw anything like her in my life!"
"I suppose it's the New Child," her husband grunted.
"And to think of her saying there ought to have been champagne in the lemonade!"
"Probably she'd forgotten to bring her pocket flask," he suggested musingly.
"But aren't you proud of Penrod?" cried Penrod's mother. "It was just as I told you: he was standing clear outside the pavilion"
"I never thought to see the day! And Penrod was the only boy not doing it, the only one to refuse? All the others were"
"Every one!" she returned triumphantly. "Even Georgie Bassett!"
"Well," said Mr. Schofield, patting her on the shoulder, "I guess we can hold up our heads at last."
