The children began to dance. There was a particularly painstaking
little boy in a white silk shirt and black velvet knickerbockers,
very tight in places, who danced assiduously, looking neither to
the right nor to the left. "Right leg, To-mus, left leg, To-mus!"
came in stentorian tones from a Fraulein in the corner, who suited
her actions to her words by the uplifting of the leg corresponding
to that recommended to Tomus's consideration, and bringing it down
with emphasis on the parquet floor.

By the sudden quickening of leg-action on the part of my
painstaking friend, I knew him to be Tomus, and by that only, so
many of the boys looked as if they might be Tomus. The real Tomus
asserted himself manfully, however, by using the exactly opposite
leg to that ordered by Fraulein. I liked this spirit of
independence, and determined to make friends with him so soon as
that dance should be over. I took the liberty of introducing
myself; he made no remark but took me by the hand and led me out
on to the landing, and there he found two chairs in the orthodox
position. Into one of these he wriggled himself by a backward and
upward movement, and I sat in the other. How absurdly easy it is
for a grown-up to sit down! I waited for Thomas to make a remark;
I might be waiting still, if I had not made a beginning. He
looked at me under his eyelashes, and tried not to smile. It was
an effort, I could see, and I could tell just where the dimples
would come. When the effort became too great and the dimples
asserted themselves beyond recall, he looked away and put out a
minute portion of his tongue. Having done that, he subsided into
grave self-possession.