"The idea! Puffy, of course you can dance. If Jack Bedelle can learn, you ought to be ashamed to give up."
"Skippy dance!"
"Of course, foolish boy! Do you want to sit and watch him dance with me all summer?"
That evening after he had escorted the triumphant Dolly Travers home in company of four other victims, Skippy went heavily upward to his room.
"Hello there!" said the big brother from his bed.
"Hello, Sambo," said Skippy, slinking in disconsolately.
"What's the matter, bub? You look like a plucked chicken. You've been moping around for a week. What is the matter with you anyhow?"
"What is the matter?" said Skippy, staring at him.
"Exactly, what is the matter?"
"The matter is, I took your advice," said Skippy reproachfully. "You told me to pick out something young and easy."