Sam, not bearing the fatal evidence upon his person, was in a
better state than Penrod, though when boys fall into the
stillness now assumed by these two, it should be understood that
they are suffering. Penrod, in fact, was the prey to apprehension
so keen that the actual pit of his stomach was cold.
Being the actual custodian of the crime, he understood that his
case was several degrees more serious than that of Sam, who, in
the event of detection, would be convicted as only an accessory.
It was a lesson, and Penrod already repented his selfishness in
not allowing Sam to show how he did, first.
"You're sure you weren't quarrelling, Sam?" said Mrs. Williams.
"No, ma'am; we were just talking."
Still she seemed dimly uneasy, and her eye swung to Penrod.
"What were you and Sam talking about, Penrod!"
"Ma'am?"
"What were you talking about?"
Penrod gulped invisibly.
"Well," he murmured, "it wasn't much. Different things."
"What things?"
"Oh, just sumpthing. Different things."
"I'm glad you weren't quarrelling," said Mrs. Williams, reassured
by this reply, which, though somewhat baffling, was thoroughly
familiar to her ear.
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