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"That darn little Carlie Chitten!" he complained. "He ast me to hold a little tin box he showed me. He told me to hold it between my thumb and fingers and he'd show me sumpthing. Then he pushed the lid, and a big needle came out of a hole and stuck me half through my thumb. That's a NICE way to act, isn't it?" Carlie Chitten's dark head showed itself cautiously beyond the casing of the door.
The orchestra played a march; Carlie Chitten and Georgie Bassett, with Amy Rennsdale and Marjorie, formed the head of a procession, while all the boys who had retained their sense of decorum immediately sought partners and fell in behind. The outlaws, succumbing to ice cream hunger, followed suit, one after the other, until all of the girls were provided with escorts.
In fact, Carlie had been so busy that his forgetting to turn off the faucets in the bathroom is not at all surprising. No one had noticed his absence. That infectious pastime, "Gotcher bumpus", had broken out again, and the general dancing, which had been resumed upon the conclusion of "Les Papillons", was once more becoming demoralized.
"SHAME, Penrod Schofield!" said both the aunts Rennsdale publicly, and Penrod, wholly innocent, became scarlet with indignant mortification. Carlie Chitten himself, however, marked the true offenders.
Then, Carlie, he cum up to me, th' other day, and he says, 'Smell my buttonhole bokay. He had some vi'lets stickin' in his buttonhole, and I went to smell 'em and water squirted on me out of 'em. I guess I've stood about enough, and if he does another thing I don't like, he better look out!"
The next instant the lights were switched on in both bathroom and dressing-room, and Carlie beheld Sam Williams in the doorway of the former. "Oh, look, Maurice!" Sam shouted, in frantic excitement. "Somebody's let the tub run over, and it's about ten feet deep! Carlie Chitten's sloshin' around in here. Let's hold the door on him and keep him in!"
"Year after next, if you work hard with your French, you may both go with me. Then you'll be big enough to look after each other while I am with the dressmakers." "Oh, tell me about the dressmakers, mother. What did you bring me?" urged Fanny, prettily excited by the thought of her gifts. "I need dreadfully some dancing frocks. Carlie has a lovely one her mother has just bought for her."
"West Twenty-third Street is mighty far out of the way, honey," observed Miss Polly cautiously. "Oh, but I'd have Carlie, and she's my best friend," persisted Fanny, with caressing obstinacy. "Well, we'll see, precious," said Gabriella, while she assured herself that if Fanny cost her every penny she had, at least the child was worth what she spent on her.
Spiritualism gets on her nerves. I've no use for it myself, but it's her life. It gives her fancies. She got some sort of a silly notion don't tell her I said this, Carlie about Rosetta Rosa. Says she's unlucky Rosa, I mean. Wanted me to warn Smart against engaging her. Me! Imagine it! Why, Rosa will be the making of this opera season! She's getting a terrific salary, Smart told me."
"Carlie Herndon lives in that row, mother" Carlie Herndon, the daughter of a distinguished and unpopular novelist, was Fanny's best friend for the moment "and I could always go out with her in the evening."
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