Rennsdale suddenly burst into loud sobs.

"Oh!" she wailed. "I just knew it would be him!"

The decorous maid's composure vanished at once--likewise her decorum.
She clapped her hand over her mouth and fled, uttering sounds. The
governess, however, set herself to comfort her heartbroken charge, and
presently succeeded in restoring Miss Rennsdale to a semblance of that
poise with which a lady receives callers and accepts invitations to
dance cotillons. But she continued to sob at intervals.

Feeling himself at perhaps a disadvantage, Penrod made offer of his
hand for the morrow with a little embarrassment. Following the form
prescribed by Professor Bartet, he advanced several paces toward the
stricken lady and bowed formally.

"I hope," he said by rote, "you're well, and your parents also in good
health. May I have the pleasure of dancing the cotillon as your partner
t'-morrow afternoon?"

The wet eyes of Miss Rennsdale searched his countenance without
pleasure, and a shudder wrung her small shoulders; but the governess
whispered to her instructively, and she made a great effort.

"I thu-thank you fu-for your polite invu-invu-invutation; and I ac----"
Thus far she progressed when emotion overcame her again. She beat
frantically upon the sofa with fists and heels. "Oh, I DID want it to be
Georgie Bassett!"

"No, no, no!" said the governess, and whispered urgently, whereupon Miss
Rennsdale was able to complete her acceptance.

"And I ac-accept wu-with pu-pleasure!" she moaned, and immediately,
uttering a loud yell, flung herself face downward upon the sofa,
clutching her governess convulsively.

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 p