"I believe the house IS falling down, Penrod!" she quavered.
"Well, they'll blame ME for it!" he said. "Anyways, we better get
out o' here. I guess sumpthing must be the matter."
His guess was accurate, so far as it went. The dance-music had
swung into "Home Sweet Home" some time before, the children were
preparing to leave, and Master Chitten had been the first boy to
ascend to the gentlemen's dressing-room for his cap, overcoat
and shoes, his motive being to avoid by departure any difficulty
in case his earlier activities should cause him to be suspected
by the other boys. But in the doorway he halted, aghast.
The lights had not been turned on; but even the dim windows
showed that the polished floor gave back reflections no
floor-polish had ever equalled. It was a gently steaming lake,
from an eighth to a quarter of an inch deep. And Carlie realized
that he had forgotten to turn off the faucets in the bathroom.
For a moment, his savoir faire deserted him, and he was filled
with ordinary, human-boy panic. Then, at a sound of voices
behind him, he lost his head and rushed into the bathroom.
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