Her amber
curls were swaying gently in time to the music; she looked never
more beautiful, and her partner was Master Chitten!
A pang of great penetrative power and equal unexpectedness found
the 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.
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