Co 7
T MB. VERNON CASTLE.
BEFORE I explain the polka it
might bo well to tell why I think
it should be revived and modern.
Ized not to take the place of the othr
dances so popular now, but to add vari
ety to all dance programmes. We have
at present a leaning toward things, old
fashioned. This is most noticeable in dancinK position for both to go for
the quaintness of the fashionable worn- wari j start on my-left foot and you
n's attire. In fac my wife is wearing
at parties the dress you see In these
photographs.
Possibly the most important excuse
for a revival and modernization of the
polka is because it is easy to learn
and so enjoyable to dance. In the polka
you hop rather than slide, which is ax
actly opposite to the usual steps in our
present-day dances. This hop, if not
exaggerated.
most gracerui. im
counting for this dance is 1-2-3 hop. Tou
do the hop after the third step, that is,
if you start this way: left, right, left,
bop, the hop comes on the left foot. If
this la clear to you it is safe to take up
the dance itself, which I will explain by
Imagining myself the instructor and
you my partner and pupil. If you hap-
pen to be a man you must put yourself
in my place and study my description
in that way. y
In reading old descriptions of tne
polka dances, we run across sentences
which so accurately describe the beauty
of this dance that they may be quoted
here to add to our description of the
steps.
"The gentleman should hold the lady
neither too near nor distant too near
would violate propriety and grace too
distant would be difficult. The polka,
which found its way into our balls un
der the auspices of fashion has had an
assured success.
"By its soft and graceful movements,
the nature of its steps, which yield so
readily to all the caprices of the waltzer
by the character of its airs for the
part inspired by such happy musical
feeling it is certain to preserve its rank
in our balls, providing as it does for our
waltzers an indispensable repose amid
the fever of the waltz.'
To commence, we assume the usual
yoK7 cf 73ii Get
V..- - -1 - -i i-Jfe, -
7i Stzczosiar Sifivsny A.
7"ro'ne 'eSSfr-r cJsic he
on your right fthls will be better un
derstood from our first photograph),.
Now we start dancing the polka step
in this position, going forward around
the room. This Is the first figure, which
(while we are learning) we wUl do
Hht tlmpii.
the second figure
swing
tTcflt ot you and we continue the same
8tTpg factg each other, turning the
while as in the two-step (second photo)
Tou must be very careful not to hop
until after the third step, and also,
when you do hop on .the one foot the
heel of the other should come up, as
Mrs. Castle's foot is in the third pho
,.', Thim tor we will' also do
el ht tjraea, .
Tne ttllrd figure is very simple and
very pretty. x release my right hand,
wncn js ar0und your waist, and we
PENROD
L?3
BY
(Continued From Page 3.)
rived about half the guests had either
been initiated Into the mysteries by
Fanchon or were learning by imita
tion; and the education of the other
half was resumed with the dancing,
when the attendant ladies, unconscious
of what was happening, withdrew into
the house for tea,
"That orchestra's a. dead one," Fanchon-
remarked to Penrod. "We ought
to liven them up a little."'
She approached the musicians.
"Don't you know," she asked the
leader, the 'Slingo Sligo Slide?'"
The leader giggled, nodded, rapped
frith his bow upon his violin, and Pen-
lb J re- ? "
.
b to each .other. Toe "me for this
W is eight beats-four to make the
bow and four to straighten up sain-
"
again. I start on my left foot and you
on your right foot, as before.
The fourth and last figure is not
quite so simple. While we are facing
each other doing the ordinary polka
step, we change hands, that Is, I take
your right in my right and-your left
in my left, your right hand being be
hind your back. Now to make the
change, I do two ordinary walking
steps and you turn, a little, so that you
(keeping on with the polka step) are at
my side instead of facing me. After
the two walking steps we go into the
polka again and in the position seen
: ;
BOOTH TARKINGTON
rod, following Fanchon back upon the
dancing-floor, blindly brushed with his
elbow a solitary little figure standing
aloof on the lawn, at the edge of the
platform.
It was Marjorie.
In no mood to approve of anything
introduced by Fanchon, she had scorn-
fully refused, from the first, to dance
the new "step," and, because of its
bonfire popularity, found herself neg
lected in a society where she had
reigned as beauty and belle. Faithless
Penrod, dazed by the sweeping Fan-
chon, had utterly forgotten the amber
curls; he had not once asked Marjorie
to dance. All afternoon the light of fn
Dny0moi Step
of uwvuriaii
th fifth nhotozranh. This is all
in
there is to the polka, and to get back infallibly exhibit himself, if not ridlc
...i, tr. ih. riT-t fip-nro all I do is to ulous. at least awkward, and serve as
take two more walking steps and take
the original hand position.
Whoever pretends to dance the Rolka
dignatlon had been growing brighter
in ber eyes, though Maurice Levy's de
fection to the lady from New York
had not fanned this flame. From the
moment Fanchon had whispered fa
miliarly in. Penrod's ear, and Penrod
had blushed, Marjorie had been oc
cupied exclusively with resentment
against that guilty pair. It seemed to
her that Penrod had no right to allow
a strange girl to whisper in his ear.
that his blushing, when the' strange
girl did it, was atrocious, and that the
strange girl, herself, ought to be ar
rested. Forgotten by the meryrmakers, Mar
jorie stood alone upofl the lah,
clenching her small fists, watching the
new dance at its high tide and bating
it with a hatred that made every inch
of her tremble. And, perhaps because
jealousy is a great awakener of the
without sufficient previous study will
a contrast to those who have given it
the attention it requires.
(Capyrlght,OtiB F. Wood.)
virtues, she had a perception of some-
xnin& in Jt wora man lauiv vi uijui
something vaguely but outrageously
reprehensible. Finally, when Penrod
brushed by her, touched her with' his
elbow and did not even see her. Mar
jorie's state of mind (not unmlngled
with emotion) became dangerous. Ih
fact, a" trained nurse, chancing to ob
serve her at this juncture, would prob
ably have taken her home and sent for
tor to give her something quiet-
ing. marjurio wao uu me vcajso v&
hysterics.
She saw Fanchon and Penrod assume
the double embrace required by the
dance; the "Slingo Sligo Slide" burst
from the orchestra like the lunatio
shriek of a gin-maddened nigger, and
all the little couples began to bob and
dip and wiggle. ,
Marjorie could bear no more. She
made a scene. She sprang upon the
platform and stamped her foot.
"Penrod Schofleld!" she shouted, "you
behave yourself!"
This remarkable girl took Penrod by
the ear. By his ear she swung him
away from Fanchon and faced him to
ward the lawn.
"You march straight out of here!"
she shouted. Penrod marched.
He was stunned, obeyed automatical
ly without question, and had very lit
tle realization of what was happening
to him. Altogether, and without reason,
he was in precisely the condition of an
elderly spouse detected In flagrant mis
behavior. Marjorie, similarly, was In
precisely the condition of the party
who detects such misbehavior. It may
be added that she had acted with a
promptness, a decision and a disregard
of social consequences, all to be oora
raended to the attention of ladies In
like predicament.
"You ought to be ashamed of your
self!" she raged, when they reached
the lawn'. "Aren't you ashamed of
yourself?" '
"What for?" he inquired helplessly.
"You be quiet!"
"But what'd I do. Marjorie? I haven't
done anything to you," he pleaded. "1
haven't even seen you, all aftern "
"You be quiet!" she cried, tears fill
ing her eyes. "Keep . still, you ugly
boy! Shut up!"
She slapped him. -
He should have understood from this
how much she cared for him. But he
rubbed bis cheek and declared rue
fully: "I'll never speak to you again!"
"You will, too!" she sobbed passion
ately. "I will not!"
He turned to leave her. but paused.
His mother, his sister Margaret and
their grown-up friends had finished
their tea and were approaching from
the house. Other parents and guardians
were with them, coming for their chil
dren; there were carriages and auto
mobiles waiting in the street, but the
"Slingo Slide", went on. regardless.
The group of grown-up people hesi
tated and came to a halt, gazing at the
pavilion.
"What are they doing?" gasped Mrs.
Williams, blushing deeply. "What is
it? What Is it?"
"What is it?" echoed Mrs. Gelbraith.
In a frightened whisper. "What "
"They're tangoing!" cried Margaret
Schofijld. "or bunny-hugning or grizzly-bearing,
or "
"They're only turkey-trotting," said
Mr. Robert Williams.
With fearful outcries, the mothers,
aunts and sisters rushed upon the pa
vilion. IV.
"Of course it was dreadful," said
Mrs. Schofield, an hour later, rendering
her lord an account of the day, "but it
was every bit the fault of that one
extraordinary child. And of all the
quiet, demure little things that is, I
mean, when she first came. We all
spoke of how exquisite she seemed so
well trained, so finished! Eleven years
old! I never saw anything like her in
my life!"
"I suppose it's the New Child," her
husband grunted.
"And to think of her saying there
ought to have been champagne In the
lemonade!"
"Probably she'd forgotten to bring
her pocket-flask," he suggested.
"But aren't you proud of Penrod?"
cried the mother. "It was just as I
told you: he was standing clear outside
the pavilion."
"I never thought to see the day. And
Penrod was the only boy not doing it,
' the only one to refuse? All the others
were
"Every one!" she returned triumph
antly. "Even Georgle Bassett!"
"Well," said Mr. Schofield, patting
her on the shoulder, "I guess we can
bold up our heads at last."
V.
Penrod was out in the yard, staring
at the empty marquee. The sun was
on the horizon line, and a western win
dow, of the house blazed In gold un
bearable to the eye. His day was near
ly over. He sighed and took from the
Inside pocket of his new jacket the
sling-shot Aunt Sarah rim had given
him that morning.
He snapped the rubbers absently.
They held fast, and his next impulse
was entirely irresistible. He found a
shapely stone, fitted it to the leather,
and drew back the ancient catapult tor
a shot. A sparrow hopped upon a
branch between him and the house, and
he aimed at the sparrow, but the re
flection from the daxftlins wlndsw
struck in his eyes as he loosed the
leather.
He missed the sparrow, but not the
window. There was a loud craih. and,
to his horror, he caught a Klimpue of
his father, stricken in mid - iliavlaa;,
ducking a shower of broken Klsss, flit
tering raior flourishing wildly.
Penrod stood petrified, a broken sling
in his hand. He could hear his parent's
booming descent of the bark stairs. In
stant and furious: and, then, red hot
above white iHther. Mr. SchoflHd bural
out of the kitchen door and hurtled
forth upon his son.
"What do you mean?" he demanded,
shaking Penrod by the shoulder. 'Ten
minutes ago. for the very first time in
our lives, your mother and I were pay
ing we were proud of you, and here
you go and throw a rock at me throuKh
the window when I'm shaving for din
ner!" "I didn't!" Penrod quavered. "I was
shooting at a sparrow, and the sun
got In my eyes, and the sling broke
"What sling?"
"Thls'n."
"HS'here'd you get that devllsh thing
Don't you know I'v forbidden you a
thousand times "
"It ain't mine," said Tenrod. "If
yours."
"What?"
"Yes. sir." said the boy, meekty.
"Aunt Sarah Crltn gave It to me this
morning and told me to give It back
to you. She said rhe took it away front
you 35 years aga. You killed her hen,
she said. he told me Borne more to
tell you, but I've forgotten. "
"Oh!" said Mr. Schofleld.
He took the broken ling In his hand,
looked at it long and thoughtfully;
then he looked longer and quite
thoughtfully at Penrod. Then he
turned away and started back toward
the house.
"I'm sorry, papa, said Penrod.
Mr. Schofield coughed, and, as he
reached the door, called back, but
without turning his head.
"Xever mind, little boy. A broken
window Isn't much harm."
When he had gone In, Penrod wan
dered down the yard to the back fence,
climbed upon it, and sat in reverie
there.
A slight figure appeared. 11kdwle
upon a fence, beyond two neighboring
yards.
"Yay, Penrod!" railed Comrade Sam
Williams.
"Yay!" returned Tenrod mechan
ically. .
"I caught Billy Blue Hill." shouted
Sam, describing retribution In a man
ner prefectly clear to his friend. "You
were mighty lucky to get out of It."
"I know that."
"You wouldn't of if It hadn't been
for Marjorie."
"Well, don't 'I know that?" Penrod
shouted, with heat.
"Well, so long!" called Sum, dropping
from his fence, and the friendly voice
came then, more faintly. "Many happy
returns of the day, Penrod!"
And now a plaintive little whine
Bounded from below his feet, and look
ing down, he saw that Duke, hla wist
ful, little, scraps'y dog, sat In the
grass gazing geeklngly up at him. The
last shaft of sunehlne of that day fell
graciously and like a blessing upon
the boy sitting on the fence. Years
afterward a quiet sunset would recall
to him. sometimes, the gentle evening
of his twelfth birthday and bring him
the picture of his boy-self sitting in
rosy light upon the fence, gazing pen
sively down upon his wistful, scragtrly
little dog, Duke. But something else,
surpassing, he would remember of that
hour, for. In the side street close by,
a pink ekirt flickered from behind a
shade tree to the shelter of the fence.
There was a gleum of amber curls, and
Penrod started as something like a tiny
white wing fluttered by his head, and
there came to hla ears the sound of a
light laugh 'and of light footsteps de
parting, the laughter tremulous, the
footsteps fleet.
In the grass, between Duke's fore
paws, there lay a white note, folded In
the shape of a cocked hat. and the sun
sent forth a final amazing glory as
Penrod opened It and read, "Your my
bow."
(Copyright, 1014. by the Wheeler Syndi
cate, Inc.)
Next week's Pearodn story la called
"Rupe Colllna."