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.

The comrades set out for the fete in company, final maternal outpourings
upon deportment and the duty of dancing with the hostess evaporating in
their freshly cleaned ears. Both boys, however, were in a state of
mind, body, and decoration appropriate to the gala scene they were
approaching. Their collars were wide and white; inside the pockets of
their overcoats were glistening dancing-pumps, wrapped in tissue-paper;
inside their jacket pockets were pleasant-smelling new white gloves,
and inside their heads solemn timidity commingled with glittering
anticipations. 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. Haven't you got any eyes?"

"Well, whyn't you say he was 'cross the street in the first place?"
Sam returned plaintively. "Besides, he's so little you can't hardly
see him." This was, of course, a violent exaggeration, though Master
Chitten, not yet eleven years old, was an inch or two short for his age.
"He's all dressed up," Sam added. "I guess he must be invited."

"I bet he does sumpthing," said Penrod.

"I bet he does, too," Sam agreed.

This was the extent of their comment upon the small person across the
street; but, in spite of its non-committal character, the manner of both
commentators seemed to indicate that they had just exchanged views upon
an interesting and even curious subject. They walked along in silence
for several minutes, staring speculatively at Master Chitten.

His appearance was pleasant and not remarkable. He was a handsome, dark
little boy, with quick eyes and a precociously reserved expression; his
air was "well-bred"; he was exquisitely neat, and he had a look of manly
competence that grown people found attractive and reassuring. In short,
he was a boy of whom a timid adult stranger would have inquired the way
with confidence. And yet Sam and Penrod had mysterious thoughts about
him--obviously there was something subterranean here.

They continued to look at him for the