ely, tar, and Maurice Levy, he still secretly
thought of Marjorie, with pathetic constancy, as his "beau"--though that
is not how he would have spelled it. Marjorie was beautiful; her
curls were long and the colour of amber; her nose was straight and
her freckles were honest; she was much prettier than this accomplished
visitor. But beauty is not all.

"I do!" breathed Fanchon, softly.

She seemed to him a fairy creature from some rosier world than this. So
humble is the human heart, it glorifies and makes glamorous almost any
poor thing that says to it: "I like you!"

Penrod was enslaved. He swallowed, coughed, scratched the back of his
neck, and said, disjointedly:

"Well--I don't care if you want to. I just as soon."

"We'll dance together," said Fanchon, "at your party."

"I guess so. I just as soon."

"Don't you want to, Penrod?"

"Well, I'm willing to."

"No. Say you WANT to!"

"Well----"

He used his toe as a gimlet, boring into the ground, his wide open eyes
staring with intense vacancy at a button on his sleeve.

His mother appeared upon the porch in departure, calling farewells over
her shoulder to Mrs. Gelbraith, who stood in the doorway.

"Say it!" whispered Fanchon.

"Well, I just as SOON."

She seemed satisfied.

CHAPTER XXX THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

A dancing floor had been laid upon a platform in the yard, when Mrs.
Schofield and her son arrived at their own abode; and a white and
scarlet striped canopy was in process of erection overhead, to shelter
the dancers from the sun. Workmen were busy everywhere under the
direction of Margaret, and the smitten heart of Penrod began to beat
rapidly. All this was for him; he was Twelve!

After lunch, he underwent an elaborate toilette and murmured not. For
the first time in his life he knew the wish to be sand-papered, waxed,
and polished to the highest possible degree. And when the operation was
over, he stood before the mirror in new bloom, feeling encouraged to
hope that his resemblance to his father was not so strong as Aunt Sarah
seemed to think.

The white gloves upon his hands had a pleasant smell, he found; and, as
he came down the stairs, he had great content in the twinkling of his
new dancing slippers. He stepped twice on each step, the better to enjoy
their effect and at the same time he deeply inhaled the odour of the
gloves. In spite of everything, Penrod had his social capacities.
Already it is to be perceived that there were