"Penrod!" Mrs. Williams exclaimed. "When did it happen?"

"I don't remember just when," he answered feebly. "I guess it was
day before yesterday."

"Gracious! How did it--"

"He--he just came up and bit me."

"Why, that's terrible! It might be dangerous for other children,"
said Mrs. Williams, with a solicitous glance at Sam. "Don't you
know whom he belongs to?"

"No'm. It was just a dog."

"You poor boy! Your mother must have been dreadfully frightened
when you came home and she saw--"

She was interrupted by the entrance of a middle-aged coloured
woman. "Miz Williams," she began, and then, as she caught sight
of Penrod, she addressed him directly, "You' ma telefoam if you
here, send you home right away, 'cause they waitin' dinner on
you."

"Run along, then," said Mrs. Williams, patting the visitor
lightly upon his shoulder; and she accompanied him to the front
door. "Tell your mother I'm so sorry about your getting bitten,
and you must take good care of it, Penrod."

"Yes'm."