"I have been to three or four parties," continued the young girl,
"where dancing was excluded, under some strange idea that it was
wrong; and I must say that so much evil-speaking and censoriousness
it has never been my lot to encounter in any company. The time,
instead of being improved as a season of mental and bodily
recreation, was worse than wasted. I know that I was worse instead
of better on returning from each of these companies, for I
insensibly fell into the prevailing spirit."

"That was very bad, certainly," remarked Mr. Archer, before whose
mind arose some pictures of social gatherings, in which had
prevailed the very spirit condemned by his young companion. "But I
don't see how you are going to make dancing a sovereign remedy for
the evil."

"It is not a sovereign remedy," was answered, "but it is a concert
of feeling and action, in which the mind is exhilarated, and in
which a mutual good-will is produced. You cannot dance without being
pleased, to a greater or less extent, with your partners on the
floor. Often and often have I had a prejudice against persons wear
off as we moved together in the dances, and I have afterwards
discovered in them good qualities to which I was before blinded."

"Uncle," said Grace to the old man, just at this moment, bending to
his ear as she spoke, and taking his hand in hers,--"come! I want to
show you something."

Grace drew him into the adjoining parlour, where another set was on
the floor. Two children, her younger brother and sister, were in it.