The evening wore on; with romping, with screaming, with enormous consumption of various foods, and with an ever-heightening temperature, that was specially noticeable among those seniors who had not disdained the brew of punch that had coincided with the announcement of midnight, made, with maddening deliberation, by Mrs. Mangan’s cuckoo-clock.  The usual delirium of cracker-head-dresses had befallen the company.  Larry, decorated with a dunce’s cap, placed upon his yellow head by a jovial matron, found himself fated, by a final effort of penalising fancy on the part of another matron, to select “a young lady,” to conduct her to the topmost step of the staircase, and there, on his knees, to kiss either her shoe-buckle or her lips; “whichever he likes best!” decreed the matron, archly.

It is strange how the reserves and reticences of childhood, the things that offend, the things that bring agony, are forgotten by so many of those who have left childhood behind.  In extenuation of this lively and kindly lady, it may be said that the manners and customs of her early youth were not those to which Larry was habituated.  Yet, one might have thought that a glance at Larry’s face would have sufficed to induce Rhadamanthus himself to remit the penalty.  Not so Mrs. Whelply, the arbitrator.

“Oh, look at the pout on him!  What a naughty boy!  If you don’t take care, I’ll put a worse task on you!”

Larry, oblivious of the dunce’s cap, feeling himself in the grip of a social machine that was too strong for him, looked round upon the company.  Hot, pink faces, shining eyes and teeth, Moenad hair, on all sides.  Then he caught sight of Tishy’s eyes, scornful and amused, regarding him as he stood irresolute, and his spirit responded to the spur of contempt.  He crossed the open space of floor to where she was seated on the blue rep sofa, took off the dunce’s cap with a flourish, and, with a low bow, offered her his arm.

A chorus of approval, weighted by the Big Doctor’s big laugh, greeted the action.  Tishy, cornered, accepted the arm, the door was swung open for them, and ostentatiously slammed behind them.

Larry, silent, and very angry, mounted the stairs quickly, and Tishy perforce, her hand gripped by his elbow, followed him.  At the highest step but one, Larry stood aside, and Tishy ascended, and turning, faced him from the top.  They looked at each other for a moment in silence.  Both were furiously angry, resenting the compulsion that had forced them into an absurd position.

Then Tishy said insolently:  “Well!  Which will you have?  My shoe-buckle or my lips?  Take your choice!”

She poked her foot out over the edge of the step confidently.

A spark shot from Larry’s angry heart to his blue eyes.  He looked up at Tishy, and something suddenly masterful awoke in him.  Confound her!  He wouldn’t have her laughing at him!

“I’ll have your lips, please!” he said, mounting to the step beside her.