And she made up her mind that if, upon her arrival, she found poor little neglected Penrod (and Margaret and Mr.Schofield) spared to her, safe and sound, she would make up to them--especially to Penrod--for all her lack of care in the past, and for this present wild folly of spending three whole days and nights with her sister, far away in Dayton, Illinois.

Consequently, when Mrs.Schofield descended from that train, she wore the hurried but determined expression that was always the effect upon her of a guilty conscience.
"You're SURE Penrod is well now ?" she repeated, after Mr.Schofield had seated himself at her side in a vehicle known to its driver as a "deepoe hack".
"'Well NOW ?'" he said.

"He's been well all the time.

I've told you twice that he's all right." "Men can't always see." She shook her head impatiently.

"I haven't been a bit sure he was well lately.