A
moment later, the liberty-cap that he had set upon his head was
softly removed, and a little crown of silver paper put in its
place.
"PENROD?"
The whisper was close to his ear, and a gentle breath cooled the
back of his neck.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE HEART OF MARJORIE JONES
"Well, what you want?" Penrod asked, brusquely.
Marjorie's wonderful eyes were dark and mysterious, like still
water at twilight.
"What makes you behave so AWFUL?" she whispered.
"I don't either! I guess I got a right to do the way I want to,
haven't I?"
"Well, anyway," said Marjorie, "you ought to quit bumping into
people so it hurts."
"Poh! It wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"Yes, it did. It hurt when you bumped Maurice and me that time."
"It didn't either. WHERE'D it hurt you? Let's see if it--"
"Well, I can't show you, but it did. Penrod, are you going to
keep on?"
Penrod's heart had melted within him; but his reply was pompous
and cold. "I will if I feel like it, and I won't if I feel like
it. You wait and see."
But Marjorie jumped up and ran around to him abandoning her
escort.
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