he young man had
disappeared. With this incident still in his mind he came upon Uncle Ben
and Hiram McKinstry standing among the spectators in the doorway. Why
might not Uncle Ben be jealous too? and if his single waltz had really
appeared so compromising why should not Cressy's father object? But both
men--albeit, McKinstry usually exhibited a vague unreasoning contempt
for Uncle Ben--were unanimous in their congratulations and outspoken
admiration.

"When I see'd you sail in, Mr. Ford," said Uncle Ben, with abstract
reflectiveness, "I sez to the fellers, 'lie low, boys, and you'll see
style.' And when you put on them first steps, I sez, 'that's French--the
latest high-toned French style--outer the best masters, and--and outer
the best books. For why?' sez I. 'It's the same long, sliding stroke you
see in his copies. There's that long up sweep, and that easy curve
to the right with no hitch. That's the sorter swing he hez in readin'
po'try too. That's why it's called the po'try of motion,' sez I. 'And
you ken bet your boots, boys, it's all in the trainin' o' education.'"

"Mr. Ford," said Mr. McKinstry gravely, slightly waving a
lavender-colored kid glove, with which he had elected to conceal his
maimed hand, and at the same moment indicate a festal occasion: "I hev
to thank ye for the way you took out that child o' mine, like ez she woz
an ontried filly, and put her through her paces. I don't dance myself,
partikly in that gait--which I take to be suthin' betwixt a lope and a
canter and I don't get to see much dancin' nowadays on account o' bein'
worrited by stock, but seein' you two together just now, suthin' came
over me, and I don't think I ever felt so kam in my life."

The blood rushed to the master's cheek with an unexpected consciousness
of guilt and shame. "But," he stammered awkwardly, "your daughter dances
beautifully herself; she has certainly had practice."

"That," said McKinstry, laying his gloved hand impressively on the
master's shoulder, with the empty little finger still more emphasized by
being turned backward in the net; "that may be ez it ez, but I wanted
to say that it was the simple, easy, fammily touch that you gev it, that
took me. Toward the end, when you kinder gathered her up and she sorter
dropped her head into your breast-pocket, and seemed to go to sleep,
like ez ef she was still a little girl, it so reminded me of the times
when I used to tote her myself walkin' by the waggin at Plat