will be believed of any man whatsoever, and one of them is that he has
taken to drink. And in every sense it was a moving picture which, with
simple but eloquent words, the virtuous Penrod set before his teacher.

His eloquence increased with what it fed on; and as with the eloquence
so with self-reproach in the gentle bosom of the teacher. She cleared
her throat with difficulty once or twice, during his description of his
ministering night with Aunt Clara. "And I said to her, 'Why, Aunt Clara,
what's the use of takin' on so about it?' And I said, 'Now, Aunt Clara,
all the crying in the world can't make things any better.' And then
she'd just keep catchin' hold of me, and sob and kind of holler, and I'd
say, 'DON'T cry, Aunt Clara--PLEASE don't cry."'

Then, under the influence of some fragmentary survivals of the
respectable portion of his Sunday adventures, his theme became more
exalted; and, only partially misquoting a phrase from a psalm, he
related how he had made it of comfort to Aunt Clara, and how he had
besought her to seek Higher guidance in her trouble.

The surprising thing about a structure such as Penrod was erecting is
that the taller it becomes the more ornamentation it will stand. Gifted
boys have this faculty of building magnificence upon cobwebs--and Penrod
was gifted. Under the spell of his really great performance, Miss Spence
gazed more and more sweetly upon the prodigy of spiritual beauty and
goodness before her, until at last, when Penrod came to the explanation
of his "just thinking," she was forced to turn her head away.

"You mean, dear," she said gently, "that you were all worn out and
hardly knew what you were saying?"