Soon Polly came back, glowing in her best gown and
slippers.
"Why, of all things! What a foolish child!" said her mother. For
answer Polly waltzed up and down the room, singing gayly.
She stopped before the glass and began to fuss with her ribbons.
The teacher went to her side.
"May I have the honour, Miss Vaughn," Said he, bowing politely.
"Is that the way to do?"
"You might say, 'Will you be my pardner,'" said she, mimicking the
broad dialect of the region.
"I'll sacrifice my dignity, but not my language," said he. "Let us
dance and be merry, for to-morrow we teach."
"If you'll watch my feet, you'll see how I do it," said she; and
lifting her skirt above her dainty ankles, glided across the floor
on tiptoe, as lightly as a fawn at play. But Sidney Trove was not
a graceful creature. The muscles on his lithe form, developed in
the school of work or in feats of strength at which he had met no
equal, were untrained in all graceful trickery. He loved dancing
and music and everything that increased the beauty and delight of
life, but they filled him with a deep regret of his ignorance.
"Hard work," said he, breathing heavily, "and I don't believe I'm
having as much fun as you are.
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