ose as well as the men--provided, of course, that she is
an adept on the "light fantastic toe" herself.

And think, on the other hand, what men go through! Reverse the order
of things, as you are supposed to do at leap year dances--which
system, however, is never properly carried out. But suppose you go up
to a man and ask him for a dance, and he tells you with a smile that
"he is very sorry, but really he has not one left." Suppose that the
next minute you see him give three to another girl, would you speak to
that man ever again? _Never!_ And yet this is what they constantly
endure and, what is more, forgive.

After all, if you analyze it, what an absurd thing dancing is. Close
your ears to the music and look around you when a ball is at its
height. What motive, you foolishly wonder, could induce all these
people--who are supposed to possess an average amount of brains--to
assemble together to clasp each other round the waist, twirl round
and round up and down the room, suddenly stop, and hurry one after
another outside the dancing hall, seeking dark corners, secret
retreats, anywhere away from the eyes of other men? "Ah, what a mad
world it is, my masters!"

How our grandmothers exclaim at the present mode of dancing!--they who
used to consider round dances almost improper. How the programmes must
astonish them, too; those engagement cards that did not exist fifty
years ago, and in their infancy were quite content to bear only two or
three names on their paper countenances. But now times have changed,
and as they grow older they become most greedy little cards. They are
not only not content with being scribbled all over, but require two
names on the top of one another, and thus causing dissensions to
ensue.

There is a great deal of art in making up a programme. It is a mistake
to be full up before you arrive. Someone may come whom you did not
expect, and then you have no dance to give him. Arrangement of a
programme requires two or three seasons' practice. There are the duty
dances to be got through first; put them up early, so that they shall
be soon over, and then you have the good ones at the end to look
forward to.

Everyone has duty dances. There are your father's constituents,
clients, patients, someone you are obliged to ingratiate, and these
are generally the worst dancers in the room! One is so fat he shakes
the hall as he walks, and yet is just as eager to join the giddy
throng, and alas! to take yo