"Say, Penrod, how--how do you feel?"
"What?"
"Do you feel pretty bad?"
"No," said Penrod, and, in spite of what awaited him beyond the
lighted portals just ahead, he spoke the truth. His nerves were
rested, and his soul was at peace. His Wednesday madness was
over.
"No," said Penrod; "I feel bully!"
CHAPTER XVII. PENROD'S BUSY DAY
Although the pressure had thus been relieved and Penrod found
peace with himself, nevertheless there were times during the rest
of that week when he felt a strong distaste for Margaret. His
schoolmates frequently reminded him of such phrases in her letter
as they seemed least able to forget, and for hours after each of
these experiences he was unable to comport himself with human
courtesy when constrained (as at dinner) to remain for any length
of time in the same room with her. But by Sunday these moods had
seemed to pass; he attended church in her close company, and had
no thought of the troubles brought upon him by her correspondence
with a person who throughout remained unknown to him.
Penrod slumped far down in the pew with his knees against the
back of that in front, and he also languished to one side, so
that the people sitting behind were afforded a view of him
consisting of a little hair and one bored ear.
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