e, that's something like," Nils said as he released her.
"You'll give me the next waltz, won't you? Now I must go and dance
with my little cousin."

Hilda was greatly excited when Nils went up to her stall and held
out his arm. Her little eyes sparkled, but she declared that she
could not leave her lemonade. Old Mrs. Ericson, who happened along
at this moment, said she would attend to that, and Hilda came out,
as pink as her pink dress. The dance was a schottische, and in a
moment her yellow braids were fairly standing on end. "Bravo!" Nils
cried encouragingly. "Where did you learn to dance so nicely?"

"My Cousin Clara taught me," the little girl panted.

Nils found Eric sitting with a group of boys who were too awkward or
too shy to dance, and told him that he must dance the next waltz
with Hilda.

The boy screwed up his shoulders. "Aw, Nils, I can't dance. My feet
are too big; I look silly."

"Don't be thinking about yourself. It doesn't matter how boys look."

Nils had never spoken to him so sharply before, and Eric made haste
to scramble out of his corner and brush the straw from his coat.

Clara nodded approvingly. "Good for you, Nils. I've been trying to
get hold of him. They dance very nicely together; I sometimes play
for them."

"I'm obliged to you for teaching him. There's no reason why he
should grow up to be a lout."

"He'll never be that. He's more like you than any of them. Only he
hasn't your courage." From her slanting eyes Clara shot forth one of
those keen glances, admiring and at the same time challenging, which
she seldom bestowed on any one, and which seemed to say, "Yes, I
admire you, but I am your equal."

Clara was proving a much better host than Olaf, who, once the supper
was over, seemed to feel no interest in anything but the lanterns.
He had brought a locomotive headlight from town to light the revels,
and he kept skulking about it as if he feared the mere light from it
might set his new barn on fire. His wife, on the contrary, was
cordial to every one, was animated and even gay. The deep salmon
color in her cheeks burned vividly, and her eyes were full of life.
She gave the piano over to the fat Swedish heiress, pulled her
father away from the corner where he sat gossiping with his cronies,
and made him dance a Bohemian dance with her. In his youth Joe had
been a famous dancer, and his daughter got him so limbered up that
every one sat round and applauded them. The old ladies w