we want him."

And a few minutes later he added, "And I think I know the place to do it
in."

Again the faithful voice of Duke was heard, pleading outside the bolted
door.

CHAPTER XII MISS RENNSDALE ACCEPTS

"One-two-three; one-two-three--glide!" said Professor Bartet,
emphasizing his instructions by a brisk collision of his palms at
"glide." "One-two-three; one-two-three--glide!"

The school week was over, at last, but Penrod's troubles were not.

Round and round the ballroom went the seventeen struggling little
couples of the Friday Afternoon Dancing Class. Round and round went
their reflections with them, swimming rhythmically in the polished, dark
floor--white and blue and pink for the girls; black, with dabs of white,
for the white-collared, white-gloved boys; and sparks and slivers
of high light everywhere as the glistening pumps flickered along the
surface like a school of flying fish. Every small pink face--with one
exception--was painstaking and set for duty. It was a conscientious
little merry-go-round.

"One-two-three; one-two-three--glide! One-two-three;
one-two-three--glide! One-two-th--Ha! Mister Penrod Schofield, you lose
the step. Your left foot! No, no! This is the left! See--like me! Now
again! One-two-three; one-two-three--glide! Better! Much better! Again!
One-two-three; one-two-three--gl--Stop! Mr. Penrod Schofield, this
dancing class is provided by the kind parents of the pupilses as much
to learn the mannerss of good societies as to dance. You think you shall
ever see a gentleman in good societies to tickle his partner in the
dance till she say Ouch? Never! I assure you it is not done. Again! Now
then! Piano, please! One-two-three; one-two-three--glide! Mr. Penrod
Schofield, your right foot--your right foot! No, no! Stop!"

The merry-go-round came to a standstill.

"Mr. Penrod Schofield and partner"--Professor Bartet wiped his
brow--"will you kindly observe me? One-two-three--glide! So! Now
then--no; you will please keep your places, ladies and gentlemen. Mr.
Penrod Schofield, I would puttickly like your attention, this is for
you!"

"Pickin' on me again!" murmured the smouldering Penrod to his small,
unsympathetic partner. "Can't let me alone a minute!"

"Mister Georgie Bassett, please step to the centre," said the professor.

Mr. Bassett complied with modest alacrity.

"Teacher's pet!" whispered Penrod hoarsely. He had nothing but contempt
for Georgie Bassett. The parents