Feeling himself at perhaps a disadvantage, Penrod
made offer of his hand for the morrow with a little
embarrassment. Following the form prescribed
by Professor Bartet, he advanced several paces toward
the stricken lady and bowed formally.
“I hope,” he said by rote, “you’re
well, and your parents also in good health. May
I have the pleasure of dancing the cotillon as your
partner t’-morrow afternoon?”
The wet eyes of Miss Rennsdale searched his countenance
without pleasure, and a shudder wrung her small shoulders;
but the governess whispered to her instructively,
and she made a great effort.
“I thu-thank you fu-for your polite invu-invu-invutation;
and I ac——” Thus far she progressed
when emotion overcame her again. She beat frantically
upon the sofa with fists and heels. “Oh,
I did want it to be Georgie Bassett!”
“No, no, no!” said the governess, and
whispered urgently, whereupon Miss Rennsdale was able
to complete her acceptance.
“And I ac-accept wu-with pu-pleasure!”
she moaned, and immediately, uttering a loud yell,
flung herself face downward upon the sofa, clutching
her governess convulsively.
Somewhat disconcerted, Penrod bowed again.
“I thank you for your polite acceptance,”
he murmured hurriedly; “and I trust—I
trust—I forget. Oh, yes—I
trust we shall have a most enjoyable occasion.
Pray present my compliments to your parents; and I
must now wish you a very good afternoon.”
Concluding these courtly demonstrations with another
bow he withdrew in fair order, though thrown into
partial confusion in the hall by a final wail from
his crushed hostess:
“Oh! Why couldn’t it be anybody but
him!”
Next morning Penrod woke in profound depression of
spirit, the cotillon ominous before him. He pictured
Marjorie Jones and Maurice, graceful and light-hearted,
flitting by him fairylike, loosing silvery laughter
upon him as he engaged in the struggle to keep step
with a partner about four years and two feet his junior.
It was hard enough for Penrod to keep step with a
girl of his size.
The foreboding vision remained with him, increasing
in vividness, throughout the forenoon. He found
himself unable to fix his mind upon anything else,
and, having bent his gloomy footsteps toward the sawdust-box,
after breakfast, presently descended therefrom, abandoning
Harold Ramorez where he had left him the preceding
Saturday. Then, as he sat communing silently
with wistful Duke, in the storeroom, coquettish fortune
looked his way.
It was the habit of Penrod’s mother not to throw
away anything whatsoever until years of storage conclusively
proved there would never be a use for it; but a recent
house-cleaning had ejected upon the back porch a great
quantity of bottles and other paraphernalia of medicine,
left over from illnesses in the family during a period
of several years. This debris Della, the cook,
had collected in a large market basket, adding to
it some bottles of flavouring extracts that had proved
unpopular in the household; also, old catsup bottles;
a jar or two of preserves gone bad; various rejected
dental liquids—and other things. And
she carried the basket out to the storeroom in the
stable.
