"I guess anybody that had been through what I had to go through, last
night, would think they had an excuse."

Miss Spence resumed her seat, though with the air of being ready to leap
from it instantly.

"What has last night to do with your insolence to me this morning?"

"Well, I guess you'd see," he returned, emphasizing the plaintive note,
"if you knew what I know."

"Now, Penrod," she said, in a kinder voice, "I have a high regard for
your mother and father, and it would hurt me to distress them, but you
must either tell me what was the matter with you or I'll have to take
you to Mrs. Houston."

"Well, ain't I going to?" he cried, spurred by the dread name. "It's
because I didn't sleep last night."

"Were you ill?" The question was put with some dryness.

He felt the dryness. "No'm; _I_ wasn't."

"Then if someone in your family was so ill that even you were kept up
all night, how does it happen they let you come to school this morning?"

"It wasn't illness," he returned, shaking his head mournfully. "It was
lots worse'n anybody's being sick. It was--it was--well, it was jest
awful."