When the wren got "real mad" he would often say she
was the funniest thing alive.
"I'm a pig, I know, aunty" (here Jack completed his salute with a
great flourish), "but Corinne does not really want me, and she
knows it. She only wants to have her own way. They don't dance
cotillions when they come here--at least they didn't last time,
and I don't believe they will to-night. They sit around with each
other in the corners and waltz with the fellows they've picked
out--and it's all arranged between them, and has been for a week--
ever since they heard Corinne was going to give a dance." The boy
spoke with earnestness and a certain tone of conviction in his
voice, although his face was still radiant.
"Well, can't you sit around, too, Jack?" remarked his aunt,
pausing in her onward movement for an instant. "I'm sure there
will be some lovely girls."
"Yes, but they don't want me. I've tried it too often, aunty--
they've all got their own set."
"It's because you don't want to be polite to any of them," snapped
Corinne with a twist of her body, so as to face him again.
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