ce?" Jenny wanted to know.

"My stars and garters, not she! She's dancing--toe-dancing, as they call
it."

"I don't dance like that," said Jenny.

"Of course you don't, but you could with practice. With practice, I
wouldn't say as you mightn't be as light as a pancake, so to speak."

"I can stand on my toes," declared Jenny proudly.

"Can you now?" said Mr. Vergoe admiringly.

"To reach fings off of the table."

"Ah, but then you'd be holding on to it, eh? Tight as wax, you'd be
holding on to it. That won't do, that won't. You must be able to dance
all over the room on your toes."

"Can you?"

"Not now, my dear, not now. I could once, though. But I never cared for
playing Harlequin."

"Eh?"

"That's a fellow you haven't met yet."

"Is he good?"

"Good--in a manner of speaking--but an awkward sort of a laddie with his
saber and all. But no malice at bottom, I'm sure of that."

"Can I be a C'mbine?"

"Why not?" exclaimed the old man. "Why not?" And he thumped the table to
mark the question's emphasis.

Jenny became very thoughtful and wished she had a petticoat all silver
and pink, like the pretty lady on her toes.

"Would I be pretty?" she asked at length.

"Wonderfully pretty, I should say."

"Would all the people say--'pretty Jenny'?"

"No more wouldn't that surprise me," declared Mr. Vergoe.

"Would I be good?"

The old man looked puzzled.

"There's nothing against it," he affirmed. "Nothing, in a manner of
speaking; but there, what some call good, others don't, and I can't say
as I've troubled much which way it was, so to speak, as long as they was
good pals and jolly companions everyone."

"What's pals?"

"Ah, there you've put your finger on it--as it were--what's a pal? Well,
I should say he was a hearty fellow--in a manner of speaking--a fellow
as would come down handsome on Treasury night when you hadn't paid your
landlady the week before. A pal wouldn't ever crab your business,
wouldn't stare too hard if you happened to use his grease. A pal
wouldn't let you sleep over the train-call on a Sunday morning. A pal
wouldn't make love to your girl on a wet, foggy afternoon in Blackburn
or Warrington. What's pals? Pals are fellows who stand on the prompt
side of life--so to speak--and stick there to the Ring Down."

All of which may or may not be an excellent definition of "paliness,"
but left Jenny, if possible, more completely ignorant of the meaning of
a pal than she was when Mr.