So passed a happy hour, which the Good King Rene of Anjou would have envied them, while Mitchy-Mitch made friends with Duke, romped about his sister and her swain, and clung to the hand of the latter, at intervals, with fondest affection and trust.
The noon whistles failed to disturb this little Arcady; only the sound of Mrs.Jones' voice for the third time summoning Marjorie and Mitchy-Mitch to lunch--sent Penrod on his way.
"I could come back this afternoon, I guess," he said, in parting.
"I'm not goin' to be here.

I'm goin' to Baby Rennsdale's party." Penrod looked blank, as she intended he should.

Having thus satisfied herself, she added: "There aren't goin' to be any boys there." He was instantly radiant again.
"Marjorie----" "Hum ?" "Do you wish I was goin' to be there ?" She looked shy, and turned away her head.
"MARJORIE JONES!" (This was a voice from home.) "HOW MANY MORE TIMES SHALL I HAVE TO CALL YOU ?" Marjorie moved away, her face still hidden from Penrod.
"Do you ?" he urged.
At the gate, she turned quickly toward him, and said over her shoulder, all in a breath: "Yes! Come again to-morrow morning and I'll be on the corner.

Bring your 'cordion!" And she ran into the house, Mitchy-Mitch waving a loving hand to the boy on the sidewalk until the front door closed..