ife, walking proudly
between the noisy boys and giggling girls, beside--but why linger over
the details of this instance of man's duplicity and woman's worse than
weakness!

The young blades of the Court of Boyville waited politely at the gate
before the house where Bud Perkins lived with Miss Morgan, his foster
mother. When the maidens arrived, all the company went trooping up
Miss Morgan's steps. After Piggy had chased Bud from the front door
into a closet, from which the host fought his way gallantly into
the middle of the parlor floor, the essential preliminaries of the
evening's entertainment were over. A little later the games began.
First, there was "forfeits." Then came "tin-tin." "Clap in and clap
out" followed, and finally, after much protestation from the girls,
but at the earnest solicitation of Mealy Jones, "post-office" started.
Piggy did not urge, nor protest. He had gone through the games
listlessly, occasionally breaking into a spasm of gayety that was
clearly hollow, and afterwards sinking into profound indifference. For
how could a well-conditioned boy be gay with a heartache under his
Sunday shirt and the spectacle before his eyes of a freckled human
cock-sparrow darting round and round the bower of his Heart's Desire?
Under such circumstances it was clearly impossible for him to see the
eyes that sought his in vain across the turmoil of the room. Indeed, a
voice pitched a trifle high to carry well spoke for him to hear, but
met deaf ears. A little maid in a black-and-red check which the King
of Boyville once preferred to royal purple, even made her way across
the throng--undesignedly, he thought, but Piggy basked in the joy of
her presence and made no sign to show his pleasure. A little later, in
the shuffle of the game, Piggy and his Heart's Desire were far apart.
Half an hour passed, but still he did not revive. Mealy Jones called
her out in "post-office," and Piggy thought he saw her smile. That was
too much. When the dining-room door closed behind the black-and-red
checked dress, the pitcher that enclosed his woe broke and the wheel
at the cistern of his endurance stopped. Mealy Jones came into the
room, and the boy who kept the "post-office" called out, "Piggy
Pennington." But the slam of the front door was his answer.

[Illustration: _A little maid in a black-and-red check_.]

Piggy sat on the front porch, and reviewed the entire affair. It began
when his Heart's Desire had fluttered into h