"Carlie Chitten!" she cried. "You poor dear child, you're soaking! To think those outrageous little fiends wouldn't even spare YOU!" As she spoke, another departing male guest came from behind Carlie and placed in her hand a snakelike article--a thing that Miss Lowe seized and concealed with one sweeping gesture.
"It's some false hair somebody must of put in my overcoat pocket," said Roderick Magsworth Bitts. "Well, 'g-night. Thank you for a very nice time."
"Good-night, Miss Rennsdale," said Master Chitten demurely.
"Thank you for a--"
But Miss Rennsdale detained him. "Carrie," she said earnestly, "you're a dear boy, and I know you'll tell me something. It was all Penrod Schofield, wasn't it?"
"You mean he left the--"
"I mean," she said, in a low tone, not altogether devoid of ferocity. "I mean it was Penrod who left the faucets running, and Penrod who tied the boys' shoes together, and filled some of them with soap and mucilage, and put Miss Lowe's hair in Roddy Bitts's overcoat. No; look me in the eye, Carlie! They were all shouting that silly thing he started. Didn't he do it?"
Carlie cast down thoughtful eyes. "I wouldn't like to tell, Miss Rennsdale," he said. "I guess I better be going or I'll catch cold. Thank you for a very nice time."
"There!" said Miss Rennsdale vehemently, as Carlie went on his way. "What did I tell you? Carlie Chitten's too manly to say it, but I just KNOW it was that terrible Penrod Schofield."
Behind her, a low voice, unheard by all except the person to whom it spoke, repeated a part of this speech: "What did I tell you?"
This voice belonged to one Penrod Schofield.
Penrod and Marjorie had descended by another stairway, and he now considered it wiser to pass to the rear of the little party at the foot of the stairs. As he was still in his pumps, his choked shoes occupying his overcoat pockets, he experienced no difficulty in reaching the front door, and getting out of it unobserved, although the noise upstairs was greatly abated.