Algernon, half-way down the walk, turned at these words, high and clear, floating down from upper regions.
In the balcony on the second floor Elsmere, clad airily in white night-drawers, leaned pensively over the railing.
“To the party, you know. Go back to bed, Sonny.”
“But the party is to Peter and Perdita’s, over there,–” with a gesture across the street. “Why do you be goin’ that way?” The fat little arm waved in an opposite direction.
“I’m going to get Catherine. Do go in, now, Elsmere. I’ll tell you all about the party in the morning,” and Algernon hastened down the street, bouncing more than usual in his effort to get out of reach of that penetrating little voice.
“Why,” it called after him, “why? Doesn’t Caffrine know the way to Peter and Perdita’s house? What you goin’ to get her for?”
87The neighbors on their porches smiled, and Algernon reddened as he rushed along.
Elsmere, abandoned, still draped himself over the railing and watched his brother’s rapid walk.
“Springs!” he murmured at last, as though he had solved a knotty problem. “Algy walks like a spring seat!”
Then with a lighted candle Elsmere proceeded to make some preparations for an evening of festivity. The party at the Osgoods’ was so near that Peter had assured him the music for the porch dancing would reach him even more clearly in his balcony chamber than if he were a really invited guest and on the spot. Peter had further coached him in the method of preparing porches for dancing, and Elsmere had secreted a candle and matches early in the evening, waiting only till Algernon was safely away to apply them. His floor nicely waxed, he curled down in a corner of the balcony to watch the arriving guests, and unexpectedly fell asleep.