table linen, on the chimney-pieces, on the opaque glass of the front
door, on the victoria, and on the harness, though omitted from the
garden-hose and the lawn-mower.

Naturally, no sensible person dreamed of connecting that illustrious
crest with the unfortunate and notorious Rena Magsworth whose name had
grown week by week into larger and larger type upon the front pages of
newspapers, owing to the gradually increasing public and official belief
that she had poisoned a family of eight. However, the statement that no
sensible person could have connected the Magsworth Bitts family with the
arsenical Rena takes no account of Penrod Schofield.

Penrod never missed a murder, a hanging or an electrocution in the
newspapers; he knew almost as much about Rena Magsworth as her jurymen
did, though they sat in a court-room two hundred miles away, and he had
it in mind--so frank he was--to ask Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, if
the murderess happened to be a relative.

The present encounter, being merely one of apathetic greeting, did not
afford the opportunity. Penrod took off his cap, and Roderick, seated
between his mother and one of his grown-up sisters, nodded sluggishly,
but neither Mrs. Magsworth Bitts nor her daughter acknowledged the
salutation of the boy in the yard. They disapproved of him as a
person of little consequence, and that little, bad. Snubbed, Penrod
thoughtfully restored his cap to his head. A boy can be cut as
effectually as a man, and this one was chilled to a low temperature. He
wondered if they despised him because they had seen a last fragment of
doughnut in his hand; then he thought that perhaps it was Duke who had
disgraced him. Duke was certainly no fashionable looking dog.