Miss Spence herself grew rather pink as she examined the missive,
and the intensity with which she afterward extended her
examination to cover the complete field of Penrod Schofield
caused him to find a remote centre of interest whereon to rest
his embarrassed gaze. She let him stand before her throughout a
silence, equalled, perhaps, by the tenser pauses during trials
for murder, and then, containing herself, she sweepingly gestured
him to the pillory--a chair upon the platform, facing the school.
Here he suffered for the unusual term of an hour, with many
jocular and cunning eyes constantly upon him; and, when he was
released at noon, horrid shouts and shrieks pursued him every
step of his homeward way. For his laughter-loving little
schoolmates spared him not--neither boy nor girl.
"Yay, Penrod!" they shouted. "How's your beautiful hair?" And,
"Hi, Penrod! When you goin' to get your parents' consent?" And,
"Say, blue stars in heaven, how's your beautiful eyes?" And,
"Say, Penrod, how's your tree-mores?" "Does your tree-mores
thrill your bein', Penrod?" And many other facetious inquiries,
hard to bear in public.
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