"
"Not this time," Mr. Schofield said, renewing his laughter.
"Well, is dinner about ready?" he asked, turning to his wife.
"Where are Margaret and Penrod?"
"Margaret's just come in," Mrs. Schofield answered. "She'll be
down in a minute, and Penrod's around somewhere."
"Penrod?" Mr. Gilling repeated curiously, in his nervous, serious
way. "What is Penrod?"
And at this, Mrs. Schofield joined in her husband's laughter. Mr.
Schofield explained.
"Penrod's our young son," he said. "He's not much for looks,
maybe; but he's been pretty good lately, and sometimes we're
almost inclined to be proud of him. You'll see him in a minute,
old Joe!"
Old Joe saw him even sooner. Instantly, as Mr. Schofield finished
his little prediction, the most shocking uproar ever heard in
that house burst forth in the kitchen. Distinctly Irish shrieks
unlimited came from that quarter--together with the clashing of
hurled metal and tin, the appealing sound of breaking china, and
the hysterical barking of a dog.
The library door flew open, and Mrs. Cullen appeared as a mingled
streak crossing the room from one door to the other.
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