It was Della.
"Mister Penrod," she bellowed forthwith, "come ahn down fr'm up there! Y'r mamma's at the dancin' class waitin' fer ye, an' she's telephoned me they're goin' to begin--an' what's the matter with ye?
Come ahn down fr'm up there!" "Come on!" urged Sam.

"We'll be late.

There go Maurice and Marjorie now." A glittering car spun by, disclosing briefly a genre picture of Marjorie Jones in pink, supporting a monstrous sheaf of American Beauty roses.
Maurice, sitting shining and joyous beside her, saw both boys and waved them a hearty greeting as the car turned the corner.
Penrod uttered some muffled words and then waved both arms--either in response or as an expression of his condition of mind; it may have been a gesture of despair.

How much intention there was in this act--obviously so rash, considering the position he occupied--it is impossible to say.

Undeniably there must remain a suspicion of deliberate purpose.
Della screamed and Sam shouted.