Gallant boy! the beads of perspiration stand on his young brow, but there is no look of blenching! When the time comes he will be ready to do it again.
As I stand in silent amusement watching him, having, for the moment, no dancing duties of my own, I hear a voice at my elbow, Bobby's, who, having come in later than the rest of us, has not been taking part in the dance.
"Nancy! Nancy!" in a tone of hurried excitement, "for the love of Heaven look at _father_! If you stand on tiptoe you will be able to see him; he has been _gallopading_! When I saw his venerable coat-tails flying, a feather would have knocked me down! You really ought to see it" (lowering his voice confidentially), "it might give you an idea about your own old man, and the old Wam--" "_Hang_ the old Wampoo!" cry I, with inelegant force, laughing.
The duty part of the evening is over now.

We have all signalized ourselves by feats of valor.

I have scampered through an unsociable country-dance with the head coachman, and have had my smart gown of faint pink and pearl color nearly torn off my back by the ponderous-footed pair that trip directly after me.

We have, in fact, done our duty, and may retire as soon as we like.

But the music has got into our feet, and we promise ourselves one valse among ourselves before we depart.
The Brat is the only exception.