“One-two-three; one-two-three—­glide!  One-two-three; one-two-three—­glide!  One-two-th—­Ha!  Mister Penrod Schofield, you lose the step.  Your left foot!  No, no!  This is the left!  See—­like me!  Now again!  One-two-three; one-two-three—­glide!  Better!  Much better!  Again!  One-two-three; one-two-three—­gl—­Stop!  Mr. Penrod Schofield, this dancing class is provided by the kind parents of the pupilses as much to learn the mannerss of good societies as to dance.  You think you shall ever see a gentleman in good societies to tickle his partner in the dance till she say Ouch?  Never!  I assure you it is not done.  Again!  Now then!  Piano, please!  One-two-three; one-two-three—­glide!  Mr. Penrod Schofield, your right foot—­your right foot!  No, no!  Stop!”

The merry-go-round came to a standstill.

“Mr. Penrod Schofield and partner”—­Professor Bartet wiped his brow—­“will you kindly observe me?  One-two-three—­glide!  So!  Now then—­no; you will please keep your places, ladies and gentlemen.  Mr. Penrod Schofield, I would puttickly like your attention, this is for you!”

“Pickin’ on me again!” murmured the smouldering Penrod to his small, unsympathetic partner.  “Can’t let me alone a minute!”

“Mister Georgie Bassett, please step to the centre,” said the professor.

Mr. Bassett complied with modest alacrity.

“Teacher’s pet!” whispered Penrod hoarsely.  He had nothing but contempt for Georgie Bassett.  The parents, guardians, aunts, uncles, cousins, governesses, housemaids, cooks, chauffeurs and coachmen, appertaining to the members of the dancing class, all dwelt in the same part of town and shared certain communal theories; and among the most firmly established was that which maintained Georgie Bassett to be the Best Boy in Town.  Contrariwise, the unfortunate Penrod, largely because of his recent dazzling but disastrous attempts to control forces far beyond him, had been given a clear title as the Worst Boy in Town. (Population, 135,000.) To precisely what degree his reputation was the product of his own energies cannot be calculated.  It was Marjorie Jones who first applied the description, in its definite simplicity, the day after the “pageant,” and, possibly, her frequent and effusive repetitions of it, even upon wholly irrelevant occasions, had something to do with its prompt and quite perfect acceptance by the community.

“Miss Rennsdale will please do me the fafer to be Mr. Georgie Bassett’s partner for one moment,” said Professor Bartet.  “Mr. Penrod Schofield will please give his attention.  Miss Rennsdale and Mister Bassett, obliche me, if you please.  Others please watch.  Piano, please!  Now then!”

Miss Rennsdale, aged eight—­the youngest lady in the class—­and Mr. Georgie Bassett one-two-three—­glided with consummate technique for the better education of Penrod Schofield.  It is possible that amber-curled, beautiful Marjorie felt that she, rather than Miss Rennsdale, might have been selected as the example of perfection—­or perhaps her remark was only woman.