Schofield's greeting, and bestowed her hand
upon Penrod, who had entertained no hope of such an honour, showed his
surprise that it should come to him, and was plainly unable to decide
what to do about it.
"Fanchon, dear," said Mrs. Gelbraith, "take Penrod out in the yard for a
while, and play."
"Let go the little girl's hand, Penrod," Mrs. Schofield laughed, as the
children turned toward the door.
Penrod hastily dropped the small hand, and exclaiming, with simple
honesty, "Why, _I_ don't want it!" followed Fanchon out into the
sunshiny yard, where they came to a halt and surveyed each other.
Penrod stared awkwardly at Fanchon, no other occupation suggesting
itself to him, while Fanchon, with the utmost coolness, made a very
thorough visual examination of Penrod, favouring him with an estimating
scrutiny which lasted until he literally wiggled. Finally, she spoke.
"Where do you buy your ties?" she asked.
"What?"
"Where do you buy your neckties? Papa gets his at Skoone's. You ought to
get yours there. I'm sure the one you're wearing isn't from Skoone's."
"Skoone's?" Penrod repeated. "Skoone's?"
"On Fifth Avenue," said Fanchon. "It's a very smart shop, the men say."
"Men?" echoed Penrod, in a hazy whisper. "Men?"
"Where do your people go in summer?" inquired the lady. "WE go to Long
Shore, but so many middle-class people have begun coming there, mamma
thinks of leaving. The middle classes are simply awful, don't you
think?"
"What?"
"They're so boorjaw.
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