Somewhat disconcerted, Penrod bowed again.

"I thank you for your polite acceptance," he murmured hurriedly; "and
I trust--I trust--I forget. Oh, yes--I trust we shall have a most
enjoyable occasion. Pray present my compliments to your parents; and I
must now wish you a very good afternoon."

Concluding these courtly demonstrations with another bow he withdrew in
fair order, though thrown into partial confusion in the hall by a final
wail from his crushed hostess:

"Oh! Why couldn't it be anybody but HIM!"



CHAPTER XIII THE SMALLPOX MEDICINE

Next morning Penrod woke in profound depression of spirit, the cotillon
ominous before him. He pictured Marjorie Jones and Maurice, graceful and
light-hearted, flitting by him fairylike, loosing silvery laughter upon
him as he engaged in the struggle to keep step with a partner about four
years and two feet his junior. It was hard enough for Penrod to keep
step with a girl of his size.

The foreboding vision remained with him, increasing in vividness,
throughout the forenoon. He found himself unable to fix his mind
upon anything else, and, having bent his gloomy footsteps toward the
sawdust-box, after breakfast, presently descended therefrom, abandoning
Harold Ramorez where he had left him the preceding Saturday. Then, as he
sat communing silently with wistful Duke, in the storeroom, coquettish