Edward, that sailor-fellow--a good free dashing sort of a fellow he
was--had been telling them various marvels concerning parrots, and
mines, and Mexicans, and gold dust, when all at once he took it in
his head to jump up from his seat and propose a dance; for Bertha's
harp was there, and she had such a hand upon it as you seldom hear.
Dot (sly little piece of affectation when she chose) said her
dancing days were over; _I_ think because the Carrier was smoking
his pipe, and she liked sitting by him, best. Mrs. Fielding had no
choice, of course, but to say HER dancing days were over, after
that; and everybody said the same, except May; May was ready.
So, May and Edward got up, amid great applause, to dance alone; and
Bertha plays her liveliest tune.
Well! if you'll believe me, they have not been dancing five
minutes, when suddenly the Carrier flings his pipe away, takes Dot
round the waist, dashes out into the room, and starts off with her,
toe and heel, quite wonderfully. Tackleton no sooner sees this,
than he skims across to Mrs. Fielding, takes her round the waist,
and follows suit. Old Dot no sooner sees this, than up he is, all
alive, whisks off Mrs. Dot in the middle of the dance, and is the
foremost there. Caleb no sooner sees this, than he clutches Tilly
Slowboy by both hands and goes off at score; Miss Slowboy, firm in
the belief that diving hotly in among the other couples, and
effecting any number of concussions with them, is your only
principle of footing it.
Hark! how the Cricket joins the music with its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp;
and how the kettle hums!
* * * * *
But what is this! Even as I listen to them, blithely, and turn
towards Dot, for one last glimpse of a little figure very pleasant
to me, she and the rest have vanished into air, and I am left
alone. A Cricket sings upon the Hearth; a broken child's-toy lies
upon the ground; and nothing else remains.
