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The noon whistles failed to disturb this little Arcady; only the sound of Mrs. Jones' voice for the third time summoning Marjorie and Mitchy-Mitch to lunch sent Penrod on his way. "I could come back this afternoon, I guess," he said, in parting. "I'm not goin' to be here. I'm goin' to Baby Rennsdale's party." Penrod looked blank, as she intended he should.
"Penrod Schofield, you bad boy," said Marjorie, "you started every bit of that! You ought to be ashamed of yourself." "I didn't do anything," he said and he believed it. "Pick on me for everything!" "Well, they wouldn't if you didn't do so much," said Marjorie. "They would, too." "They wouldn't, either. Who would?" "That Miss Lowe," he specified bitterly. "Yes, and Baby Rennsdale's aunts.
The truth must be faced: Penrod and Sam were seldom invited to small parties; they were considered too imaginative. But in the case of so large an affair as Miss Rennsdale's, the feeling that their parents would be sensitive outweighed fears of what Penrod and Sam might do at the party. Reputation is indeed a bubble, but sometimes it is blown of sticky stuff.
Some young chentlemen haf mate so much noise ant confoosion Miss Lowe wish me to ask bleace no more such a nonsense. Fency dence, 'Les Papillons'." Thereupon, after formal salutations, Mr. Chitten took Marjorie's hand, Georgie Bassett took Miss Rennsdale's, and they proceeded to dance "Les Papillons" in a manner that made up in conscientiousness whatever it may have lacked in abandon.
They took their chairs in the capacious dining-room quietly enough, though their expressions were eloquent of bravado, and they jostled one another and their neighbours intentionally, even in the act of sitting. However, it was not long before delectable foods engaged their whole attention and Miss Amy Rennsdale's party relapsed into etiquette for the following twenty minutes.
They continued to look at him for the greater part of block, when, their progress bringing them in sight of Miss Amy Rennsdale's place of residence their attention was directed to a group of men bearing festal burdens encased violins, a shrouded harp and other beckoning shapes.
She led him into a room too small for dancing, used ordinarily by Miss Amy Rennsdale's father as his study, and now vacant. For a while there was silence; but finally Marjorie pointed to the window and said shyly: "Look, Penrod, it's getting dark. The party'll be over pretty soon, and you've never danced one single time!" "Well, I guess I know that, don't I?"
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