Skippy Bedelle Part 29

"On Sunday?" said Joe, startled out of his att.i.tude.

"Don't worry, we're not going to dance. We're going to make a good impression on father."

When Mr. Travers drew up ten minutes later he beheld eleven sheepish young gentlemen huddled in a circle in the middle of the parlor intoning from hymnbooks the measures which Joe Crocker pounded out from the piano under the solemn inspection of Miss Dolly Travers.

"Great heavens! What's this?" said Mr. Travers, who was the most unorthodox of men. "What in mischief are you up to now?"

"It's my Sunday School cla.s.s," said the young lady, with difficult seriousness. "We're meeting every week. It won't annoy you too much, will it, father?"

CHAPTER XXIV

RESULT OF A BROTHER'S ADVICE

THE first dance of the summer took place the following Sat.u.r.day, and the entire feminine contingent immediately declared war on Miss Dolly Travers, who entered escorted by four cavaliers and subdivided each dance.

While others more fortunately endowed with rhythmic feet swayed and circled about the ballroom with the little Dresden china blonde, Skippy, who guarded in his arms a pink and white filmy scarf, glowered across the vacant chair at Puffy Ellis, who had been favored with the safekeeping of the favorite's fan.

"Jack, you're perfectly ridiculous," said Sister Clara, who did not relish the compet.i.tion. "The idea of making a fool of yourself over a child of twelve that ought to be in bed long ago. Haven't you any pride?"

"Kitty, kitty," said Skippy softly. He could not be bothered with such things as sisters. His mind was made up. He glared over at Puffy and said to himself: "To-night I'll give him his choice. Either he gets off the horizon, or I tear the hide off him."

He would protect his rights in the good old-fashioned way, even if he had to thrash a dozen of them!

"Why, Jack!" said Dolly, whirling up at this moment, and sinking back into the scarf which he hurriedly draped about her. "You look like blood and thunder. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Oh, no!"

"Well then?"

"Why did you give Puffy Ellis that fan?"

"Poor Puffy! He doesn't dance, either."

"Lord, I'll dance by next Sat.u.r.day," said Skippy miserably, "or break a leg."

"Foolish boy, of course you must dance! If I sit this out with you, will it make you feel any better?"

"Will it!"

"We'll go on the porch and you'll try a one-step. Oh, no one will see.

Gracious! Don't look so terrified."

Skippy's answer was something between a gulp and a gurgle.

"Don't you want _me_ to teach you?" said Dolly in the velvetiest voice in the world.

"I'll try; I'll try anything you say," he said, breathing hard, "only I say, Dolly, remember a cart-horse has done more dancing than I ever have."

"The two-step is frightfully easy--you'll see," said the young lady when they had reached the dark end of the piazza. "It's just one-two to music. Put your arm around me!"

"What?"

"You goose! How can you dance if you don't?" said Dolly in a cool professional manner. "Take my hand. So! Now just walk in rhythm."

When Skippy for the first time in his life had actually closed his arm around a feminine waist and clutched at the outstretched hand, he had a sensation of terrifying dizziness, such as had once overcome him when on a dare he had poised himself thirty feet in the air for his first high dive.

"Begin! One, two, left foot, to the music!"

Skippy blindly and obediently began to walk. He walked all over the little feet. He walked on his own. He walked into a chair and ricocheted from a table with a b.u.mp that bounced them off the railing.

"That's enough!" said Dolly in a slightly discouraged voice. "Gracious!

You mustn't grab me like that. You're not drowning."

"Drowning's nothing to this," said Skippy, rubbing his forehead. "You see it's hopeless."

"Of course it isn't hopeless. If that great big lummox of a Tacks Brooker can dance aren't you ashamed of yourself to give up like that?"

"I'll never dance another step," said Skippy sulkily.

"The idea, Jack Bedelle! I want you to dance, and dance you shall!" said Dolly, stamping her foot. "Do you understand?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: He balanced carefully, stretched out one arm to encircle an imaginary waist. _Page 172_]

"Don't rub it in, Dolly."

"Foolish boy!" said the young lady, squeezing his arm. "Do you think I want to dance all summer long with _other_ men?"

Three-quarters of an hour later Skippy again, but alone, reached the protecting shadows. Again the orchestra was beating out an exhilarating measure.

"You bet I'm not going to let her dance with other men," he said under his breath. He balanced carefully, stretched out one arm to encircle an imaginary waist and started heavily to tread the illusive measure.

Suddenly he realized that he was not alone. Farther down a couple were swaying in the shadows. Then Dolly's voice reached him.

"The idea! Puffy, of course you can dance. If Jack Bedelle can learn, you ought to be ashamed to give up."

"Skippy dance!"

"Of course, foolish boy! Do you want to sit and watch him dance with me _all_ summer?"

That evening after he had escorted the triumphant Dolly Travers home in company of four other victims, Skippy went heavily upward to his room.

"h.e.l.lo there!" said the big brother from his bed.

"h.e.l.lo, Sambo," said Skippy, slinking in disconsolately.

"What's the matter, bub? You look like a plucked chicken. You've been moping around for a week. What is the matter with you anyhow?"