rod put a hand in his pocket and drew forth a copper two-cent piece,
large, round, and fairly bright.

He gave it to Mitchy-Mitch.

Mitchy-Mitch immediately stopped crying and gazed upon his benefactor
with the eyes of a dog.

This world!

Thereafter did Penrod--with complete approval from Mitchy-Mitch--play
the accordion for his lady to his heart's content, and hers. Never had
he so won upon her; never had she let him feel so close to her before.
They strolled up and down upon the sidewalk, eating, one thought between
them, and soon she had learned to play the accordion almost as well as
he. So passed a happy hour, which the Good King Rene of Anjou would have
envied them, while Mitchy-Mitch made friends with Duke, romped about his
sister and her swain, and clung to the hand of the latter, at intervals,
with fondest affection and trust.

The noon whistles failed to disturb this little Arcady; only the
sound of Mrs. Jones' voice for the third time summoning Marjorie and
Mitchy-Mitch to lunch--sent Penrod on his way.

"I could come back this afternoon, I guess," he said, in parting.

"I'm not goin' to be here. I'm goin' to Baby Rennsdale's party."

Penrod looked blank, as she intended he should. Having thus satisfied
herself, she added:

"There aren't goin' to be any boys there."

He was instantly radiant again.

"Marjorie----"

"Hum?"

"Do you wish I was goin' to be there?"

She looked shy, and turned away her head.

"MARJORIE JONES!" (This was a voice from home.) "HOW MANY MORE TIMES
SHALL I HAVE TO CALL YOU?"

Marjorie moved away, her face still hidden from Penrod.

"Do you?" he urged.

At the gate, she turned quickly toward him, and said over her shoulder,
all in a breath: "Yes! Come again to-morrow morning and I'll be on the
corner. Bring your 'cordion!"

And she ran into the house, Mitchy-Mitch waving a loving hand to the boy
on the sidewalk until the front door closed.

CHAPTER XIX THE INNER BOY

Penrod went home in splendour, pretending that he and Duke were a long
procession; and he made enough noise to render the auricular part of the
illusion perfect. His own family were already at the lunch-table when he
arrived, and the parade halted only at the door of the dining-room.

"Oh SOMETHING!" shouted Mr. Schofield, clasping his bilious brow with
both hands. "Stop that noise! Isn't it awful enough for you to SING? Sit
DOWN! Not with that thing on! Take that green rope off your should