most vulnerable spot beneath the simple black of Penrod Schofield's
jacket. Straightway he turned his back upon the crash-covered floors
where the dancers were, and moved gloomily toward the hall. But one of
the maiden aunts Rennsdale waylaid him.

"It's Penrod Schofield, isn't it?" she asked. "Or Sammy Williams? I'm
not sure which. Is it Penrod?"

"Ma'am?" he said. "Yes'm."

"Well, Penrod, I can find a partner for you. There are several dear
little girls over here, if you'll come with me."

"Well--" He paused, shifted from one foot to the other, and looked
enigmatic. "I better not," he said. He meant no offence; his trouble was
only that he had not yet learned how to do as he pleased at a party and,
at the same time, to seem polite about it. "I guess I don't want to," he
added.

"Very well!" And Miss Rennsdale instantly left him to his own devices.

He went to lurk in the wide doorway between the hall and the
drawing-room--under such conditions the universal refuge of his sex at
all ages. There he found several boys of notorious shyness, and stood
with them in a mutually protective group. Now and then one of them would
lean upon another until repelled by action and a husky "What's matter
'th you? Get off o' me!" They all twisted their slender necks uneasily
against the inner bands of their collars, at intervals, and sometimes
exchanged facetious blows under cover. In the distance Penrod caught
glimpses of amber curls flashing to and fro, and he knew himself to be
among the derelicts.

He remained in this questionable sanctuary during the next dance; but,
edging along the wall to lean more comfortably in a corner, as the music
of the third sounded, he overheard part of a conversation that somewhat
concerned him. The participants were the governess of his hostess, Miss
Lowe, and that one of the aunts Rennsdale who had offered to provide
him with a partner. These two ladies were standing just in front of him,
unconscious of his nearness.

"I never," Miss Rennsdale said, "never saw a more fascinating little boy
than that Carlie Chitten. There'll be some heartaches when he grows up;
I can't keep my eyes off him."

"Yes; he's a charming boy," Miss Lowe said. "His manners are
remarkable."

"He's a little man of the world," the enthusiastic Miss Rennsdale went
on, "very different from such boys as Penrod Schofield!"

"Oh, PENROD!" Miss Lowe exclaimed. "Good gracious!"

"I don't see why he came. He declines to