In the distance Penrod caught glimpses of amber curls flashing to and fro, and he knew himself to be among the derelicts.
He remained in this questionable sanctuary during the next dance; but, edging along the wall to lean more comfortably in a corner, as the music of the third sounded, he overheard part of a conversation that somewhat concerned him.

The participants were the governess of his hostess, Miss Lowe, and that one of the aunts Rennsdale who had offered to provide him with a partner.

These two ladies were standing just in front of him, unconscious of his nearness.
"I never," Miss Rennsdale said, "never saw a more fascinating little boy than that Carlie Chitten.

There'll be some heartaches when he grows up; I can't keep my eyes off him." "Yes; he's a charming boy," Miss Lowe said.

"His manners are remarkable." "He's a little man of the world," the enthusiastic Miss Rennsdale went on, "very different from such boys as Penrod Schofield!" "Oh, PENROD!" Miss Lowe exclaimed.