compete with the music. Then Penrod allowed himself to be shoved
out among the circling dancers, so that he collided with Marjorie
and Maurice Levy, almost oversetting them.

He made a mock bow and a mock apology, being inspired to invent a
jargon phrase.

"Excuse me," he said, at the same time making vocal his own
conception of a taunting laugh. "Excuse me, but I must 'a' got
your bumpus!"

Marjorie looked grieved and turned away with Maurice; but the
boys in the doorway squealed with maniac laughter.

"Gotcher bumpus! Gotcher bumpus!" they shrilled. And they began
to push others of their number against the dancing couples,
shouting, "'Scuse me! Gotcher bumpus!"

It became a contagion and then a game. As the dances went on,
strings of boys, led by Penrod, pursued one another across the
rooms, howling, "Gotcher bumpus!" at the top of their lungs. They
dodged and ducked, and seized upon dancers as shields; they
caromed from one couple into another, and even into the musicians
of the orchestra. Boys who were dancing abandoned their partners
and joined the marauders, shrieking, "Gotcher bumpus!" Potted
plants went down; a slender gilt chair refused to support the
hurled body of Master Roderick Magsworth Bitts, and the sound of
splintering wood mingled with other sounds. Dancing became
impossible; Miss Amy Rennsdale wept in the midst of the riot, and
everybody knew that Penrod Schofield had "started it".