lted within him; but his reply was pompous and
cold. "I will if I feel like it, and I won't if I feel like it. You wait
and see."

But Marjorie jumped up and ran around to him abandoning her escort.
All the children were leaving their chairs and moving toward the
dancing-rooms; the orchestra was playing dance-music again.

"Come on, Penrod!" Marjorie cried. "Let's go dance this together. Come
on!"

With seeming reluctance, he suffered her to lead him away. "Well, I'll
go with you; but I won't dance," he said "I wouldn't dance with the
President of the United States"

"Why, Penrod?"

"Well--because well, I won't DO it!"

"All right. I don't care. I guess I've danced plenty, anyhow. Let's go
in here." 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?"

He was unable to cast aside his outward truculence though it was but a
relic. However, his voice was gentler, and Marjorie seemed satisfied.
From the other rooms came the swinging music, shouts of "Gotcher
bumpus!" sounds of stumbling, of scrambling, of running, of muffled
concus signs and squeals of dismay. Penrod's followers were renewing the
wild work, even in the absence of their chief.

"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. If the house'd burn down, I bet they'd say Penrod Schofield did
it! Anybody does anything at ALL, they say, 'Penrod Schofield, shame on
you!' When you and Carlie were dan--"

"Penrod, I just hate that little Carlie Chitten. P'fesser Bartet made me
learn that dance with him; but I just hate him."

Penrod was now almost completely mollified; nevertheless, he continued
to set forth his grievance. "Well, they all turned around to me and they
said, 'Why, Penrod Schofield, shame on you!' And I hadn't done a single
thing! I was just standin' there. They got to blame ME, t