"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 b.u.t.ton 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 x.x.x 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 in him the makings of a cotillon leader.
Then came from the yard a sound of tuning instruments, squeak of fiddle, croon of "cello, a falling triangle ringing and tinkling to the floor; and he turned pale.
Chosen guests began to arrive, while Penrod, suffering from stage-fright and perspiration, stood beside his mother, in the "drawing-room,"
to receive them. He greeted unfamiliar acquaintances and intimate fellow-criminals with the same frigidity, murmuring: ""M glad to see y"," to all alike, largely increasing the embarra.s.sment which always prevails at the beginning of children"s festivities. His unnatural pomp and circ.u.mstance had so thoroughly upset him, in truth, that Marjorie Jones received a distinct shock, now to be related. Doctor Thrope, the kind old clergyman who had baptized Penrod, came in for a moment to congratulate the boy, and had just moved away when it was Marjorie"s turn, in the line of children, to speak to Penrod. She gave him what she considered a forgiving look, and, because of the occasion, addressed him in a perfectly courteous manner.
"I wish you many happy returns of the day, Penrod."
"Thank you, sir!" he returned, following Dr. Thrope with a gla.s.sy stare in which there was absolutely no recognition of Marjorie. Then he greeted Maurice Levy, who was next to Marjorie: ""M glad to see y"!"
Dumfounded, Marjorie turned aside, and stood near, observing Penrod with gravity. It was the first great surprise of her life. Customarily, she had seemed to place his character somewhere between that of the professional rioter and that of the orang-outang; nevertheless, her manner at times just hinted a consciousness that this Caliban was her property. Wherefore, she stared at him incredulously as his head bobbed up and down, in the dancing-school bow, greeting his guests. Then she heard an adult voice, near her, exclaim:
"What an exquisite child!"
Mariorie galanced up--a little consciously, though she was used to it--naturally curious to ascertain who was speaking of her. It was Sam Williams" mother addressing Mrs. Ba.s.sett, both being present to help Mrs. Schofield make the festivities festive.
"Exquisite!"
Here was a second heavy surprise for Marjorie: they were not looking at her. They were looking with beaming approval at a girl she had never seen; a dark and modish stranger of singularly composed and yet modest aspect. Her downcast eyes, becoming in one thus entering a crowded room, were all that produced the effect of modesty, counteracting something about her which might have seemed too a.s.sured. She was very slender, very dainty, and her apparel was disheartening to the other girls; it was of a knowing picturesqueness wholly unfamiliar to them. There was a delicate trace of powder upon the lobe of Fanchon"s left ear, and the outlines of her eyelids, if very closely scrutinized, would have revealed successful experimentation with a burnt match.
Marjorie"s lovely eyes dilated: she learned the meaning of hatred at first sight. Observing the stranger with instinctive suspicion, all at once she seemed, to herself, awkward. Poor Marjorie underwent that experience which hearty, healthy, little girls and big girls undergo at one time or another--from heels to head she felt herself, somehow, too THICK.
Fanchon leaned close to Penrod and whispered in his ear:
"Don"t you forget!"
Penrod blushed.
Marjorie saw the blush. Her lovely eyes opened even wider, and in them there began to grow a light. It was the light of indignation;--at least, people whose eyes glow with that light always call it indignation.
Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior, approached Fanchon, when she had made her courtesy to Mrs. Schofield. Fanchon whispered in Roderick"s ear also.
"Your hair is pretty, Roddy! Don"t forget what you said yesterday!"
Roderick likewise blushed.
Maurice Levy, captivated by the newcomer"s appearance, pressed close to Roderick.
"Give us an intaduction, Roddy?"
Roddy being either reluctant or unable to perform the rite, Fanchon took matters into her own hands, and was presently favourably impressed with Maurice, receiving the information that his tie had been brought to him by his papa from Skoone"s, whereupon she privately informed him that she liked wavy hair, and arranged to dance with him. Fanchon also thought sandy hair attractive, Sam Williams discovered, a few minutes later, and so catholic was her taste that a ring of boys quite encircled her before the musicians in the yard struck up their thrilling march, and Mrs.
Schofield brought Penrod to escort the lady from out-of-town to the dancing pavilion.
Headed by this pair, the children sought partners and paraded solemnly out of the front door and round a corner of the house. There they found the gay marquee; the small orchestra seated on the lawn at one side of it, and a punch bowl of lemonade inviting attention, under a tree.
Decorously the small couples stepped upon the platform, one after another, and began to dance.
"It"s not much like a children"s party in our day," Mrs. Williams said to Penrod"s mother. "We"d have been playing "Quaker-meeting," "Clap-in, Clap-out," or "Going to Jerusalem," I suppose."
"Yes, or "Post-office" and "Drop-the-handkerchief,"" said Mrs.
Schofield. "Things change so quickly. Imagine asking little Fanchon Gelbraith to play "London Bridge"! Penrod seems to be having a difficult time with her, poor boy; he wasn"t a shining light in the dancing cla.s.s."
However, Penrod"s difficulty was not precisely of the kind his mother supposed. Fanchon was showing him a new step, which she taught her next partner in turn, continuing instructions during the dancing. The children crowded the floor, and in the kaleidoscopic jumble of bobbing heads and intermingling figures her extremely different style of motion was un.o.bserved by the older people, who looked on, nodding time benevolently.
Fanchon fascinated girls as well as boys. Many of the former eagerly sought her acquaintance and thronged about her between the dances, when, accepting the deference due a cosmopolitan and an oracle of the mode, she gave demonstrations of the new step to succeeding groups, professing astonishment to find it unknown: it had been "all the go," she explained, at the Long Sh.o.r.e Casino for fully two seasons. She p.r.o.nounced "slow" a "Fancy Dance" executed during an intermission by Baby Rennsdale and Georgie Ba.s.sett, giving it as her opinion that Miss Rennsdale and Mr. Ba.s.sett were "dead ones"; and she expressed surprise that the punch bowl contained lemonade and not champagne.
The dancing continued, the new step gaining instantly in popularity, fresh couples adventuring with every number. The word "step" is somewhat misleading, nothing done with the feet being vital to the evolutions introduced by Fanchon. Fanchon"s dance came from the Orient by a roundabout way; pausing in Spain, taking on a Gallic frankness in gallantry at the Bal Bullier in Paris, combining with a relative from the South Seas encountered in San Francisco, flavouring itself with a carefree negroid abandon in New Orleans, and, acc.u.mulating, too, something inexpressible from Mexico and South America, it kept, throughout its travels, to the underworld, or to circles where nature is extremely frank and rank, until at last it reached the dives of New York, when it immediately broke out in what is called civilized society. Thereafter it spread, in variously modified forms--some of them disinfected--to watering-places, and thence, carried by hundreds of older male and female Fanchons, over the country, being eagerly adopted everywhere and made wholly pure and respectable by the supreme moral axiom that anything is all right if enough people do it. Everybody was doing it.
Not quite everybody. It was perhaps some test of this dance that earth could furnish no more grotesque sight than that of children doing it.
Earth, a.s.sisted by Fanchon, was furnishing this sight at Penrod"s party.
By the time ice-cream and cake arrived, about half the guests had either been initiated into the mysteries by Fanchon or were learning by imitation, and the education of the other half was resumed with the dancing, when the attendant ladies, unconscious of what was happening, withdrew into the house for tea.
"That orchestra"s a dead one," Fanchon remarked to Penrod. "We ought to liven them up a little!"
She approached the musicians.
"Don"t you know," she asked the leader, "the Slingo Sligo Slide?"
The leader giggled, nodded, rapped with his bow upon his violin; and Penrod, following Fanchon back upon the dancing floor, blindly brushed with his elbow a solitary little figure standing aloof on the lawn at the edge of the platform.