The two ladies made all possible haste, after this,
to deliver Penrod into the hands of Mrs. Lora Rewbush;
nevertheless, they found opportunity to exchange earnest
congratulations upon his not having recognized the
humble but serviceable paternal garment now brilliant
about the Lancelotish middle. Altogether, they
felt that the costume was a success. Penrod looked
like nothing ever remotely imagined by Sir Thomas
Malory or Alfred Tennyson;—for that matter,
he looked like nothing ever before seen on earth;
but as Mrs. Schofield and Margaret took their places
in the audience at the Women’s Arts and Guild
Hall, the anxiety they felt concerning Penrod’s
elocutionary and gesticular powers, so soon to be
put to public test, was pleasantly tempered by their
satisfaction that, owing to their efforts, his outward
appearance would be a credit to the family.
CHAPTER IV DESPERATION
The Child Sir Lancelot found himself in a large anteroom
behind the stage—a room crowded with excited
children, all about equally medieval and artistic.
Penrod was less conspicuous than he thought himself,
but he was so preoccupied with his own shame, steeling
his nerves to meet the first inevitable taunting reference
to his sister’s stockings, that he failed to
perceive there were others present in much of his own
unmanned condition. Retiring to a corner, immediately
upon his entrance, he managed to unfasten the mantle
at the shoulders, and, drawing it round him, pinned
it again at his throat so that it concealed the rest
of his costume. This permitted a temporary relief,
but increased his horror of the moment when, in pursuance
of the action of the “pageant,” the sheltering
garment must be cast aside.
Some of the other child knights were also keeping
their mantles close about them. A few of the
envied opulent swung brilliant fabrics from their
shoulders, airily, showing off hired splendours from
a professional costumer’s stock, while one or
two were insulting examples of parental indulgence,
particularly little Maurice Levy, the Child Sir Galahad.
This shrinking person went clamorously about, making
it known everywhere that the best tailor in town had
been dazzled by a great sum into constructing his
costume. It consisted of blue velvet knickerbockers,
a white satin waistcoat, and a beautifully cut little
swallow-tailed coat with pearl buttons. The medieval
and artistic triumph was completed by a mantle of
yellow velvet, and little white boots, sporting gold
tassels.
All this radiance paused in a brilliant career and
addressed the Child Sir Lancelot, gathering an immediately
formed semicircular audience of little girls.
Woman was ever the trailer of magnificence.
“What you got on?” inquired Mr. Levy,
after dispensing information. “What you
got on under that ole golf cape?”
Penrod looked upon him coldly. At other times
his questioner would have approached him with deference,
even with apprehension. But to-day the Child
Sir Galahad was somewhat intoxicated with the power
of his own beauty.
