favour and recognition of the god. It was a triumph of appeal.

And then the dance began--the wild, fantastic steps full of grace and joy
and the fury and passion of youth. Round and round spun the slight form,
with arms over head or spread wide. The red cape floated, rising and
falling; the uplifted face changed with every moment's flitting thought.
It was a beautiful thing, that dance, grotesque, pagan, and yet divine,
and through it all, panting and pulsing, sounded the strange,
incomprehensible words:

"Skib, skib, skibble--de--de--dosh!"

While the rite was at high tide a young fellow, lying prone under a
clump of trees beyond the open space, looked on, first in amaze mingled
with amusement, and then with delight and admiration. He had never
seen anything at once so heathenish and so exquisite. To one hampered
and restricted as he was in bodily freedom, the absolute grace was
marvellous, but the uncanny words and the girl's apparent seriousness
gave a touch of unreality to the scene. Presently, from sheer inability
to further control himself, the looker-on gave a laugh that rent the
stillness of the afternoon like a cruel shock.

Priscilla, horrified, paused in the midst of a wild whirl and listened,
her eyes dilating, her nostrils twitching. She waited for another burst
that would make her understand.

Having given vent to that one peal of mirth, Richard Travers pulled
himself to a sitting position, and, by so doing, presented his head and
shoulders to the indignant eyes of Priscilla Glenn.