"What's kissing to dancing ?" Daniel Plympton was somewhat stout but curiously light of foot, and accounted the best dancer in town.

As he spoke he sprang up on his toes as if he had winged heels.

"Forfeits!" repeated he, jerking his great flaxen head.
"Well, you can go yourself, then, and ask Madelon Hautville to lilt," said Burr.
"I tell you I can't, Burr--I ain't mean enough." "Well, I won't, and that's flat." "I've got to go home, anyway," said Abner Little.

"What I want to know is--is there going to be any ball ?" "Oh, get your girl anyhow, Ab," returned Daniel, with a great laugh; "there'll be something.

If there ain't dancing, there'll be kissing, and that'll suit her just as well.