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Updated: May 2, 2025
Carlie made a false step, recovering himself with some difficulty, whereupon a loud, jeering squawk of laughter was heard from the insurgent cluster, which had been awed to temporary quiet but still maintained its base in the drawing-room doorway. There was a general "SH!" followed by a shocked whispering, as well as a general turning of eyes toward Penrod.
This latter aunt Rennsdale marked a dripping figure that came unobtrusively, and yet in a self-contained and gentlemanly manner, down the stairs. "Carlie Chitten!" she cried. "You poor dear child, you're soaking!
Carlie rushed to prevent the execution of this project; but he slipped and went swishing full length along the floor, creating a little surf before him as he slid, to the demoniac happiness of Sam and Maurice. They closed the door, however, and, as other boys rushed, shouting and splashing, into the flooded dressing-room, Carlie began to hammer upon the panels.
A fancy dance by Georgie Bassett and Baby Rennsdale was customary at every party attended by members of the Friday Afternoon Dancing Class; but Marjorie and Carlie Chitten were new performers, and Penrod had not heard that they had learned to dance "Les Papillons" together. He was the further embittered.
Carlie Chitten was a singular boy, though not unique: he was an "only child", lived at a hotel, and found life there favourable to the development of certain peculiarities in his nature. He played a lone hand, and with what precocious diplomacy he played that curious hand was attested by the fact that Carlie was brilliantly esteemed by parents and guardians in general.
Before them, like a Christmas tree glimpsed through lace curtains, they beheld joy shimmering music, ice-cream, macaroons, tinsel caps, and the starched ladies of their hearts Penrod and Sam walked demurely yet almost boundingly; their faces were shining but grave they were on their way to the Party! "Look at there!" said Penrod. "There's Carlie Chitten!" "Where?" Sam asked. "'Cross the street.
If the house'd burn down, I bet they'd say Penrod Schofield did it! Anybody does anything at ALL, they say, 'Penrod Schofield, shame on you! When you and Carlie were dan " "Penrod, I just hate that little Carlie Chitten. P'fesser Bartet made me learn that dance with him; but I just hate him." Penrod was now almost completely mollified; nevertheless, he continued to set forth his grievance.
Thinks I, my carlie, her nabs 'ill lat you hear something the nicht that'll garr the lugs o' ye dirl. There wasna a twa-shilliny bit to be gotten, so Bandy had to tak' the lid o' a sweetie-bottle an' mak' the best o't. "Noo, Sandy," says he, "juist grip that gey firm atween your finger an' your thoom, an' stare at it as hard's ye can. Nae winkin' or lookin' aboot; an', you lads, be quiet.
The 'Fräulein Flaischer! Carlie Mossyn, the assistant cooper, must be on his road to Kingatok for blubber. It was Carlie Mossyn, sure enough. The quiet routine of a Danish settlement is the same year after year, and Petersen had hit upon the exact state of things.
"I guess I better be going or I'll catch cold. Thank you for a very nice time." "There!" said Miss Rennsdale vehemently, as Carlie went on his way. "What did I tell you? Carlie Chitten's too manly to say it, but I just KNOW it was that terrible Penrod Schofield." Behind her, a low voice, unheard by all except the person to whom it spoke, repeated a part of this speech: "What did I tell you?"
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