The orderlies pushed the table into a corner, and the aide-de-camp, holding his general in a close embrace, piloted him respectfully but rhythmically round the room.
"One, two ... one, two. It's a simple walk, sir, but a sort of glide. Your feet mustn't leave the ground."
"Why not?" asked the general.
"It's the rule. Now twinkle."
"Twinkle? What's that?" asked the general.
"It's a sort of hesitation, sir; you put out your left foot, then you bring it sharply back against the right, and start again with the right foot. Left, back again, and quickly right. Splendid, sir."
The general, who was a man of precision, asked how many steps he was to count before twinkling again. The rosy-cheeked one explained that it didn't matter, you could change steps whenever you liked.
"But look here," said General Bramble, "how is my partner to know when I'm going to twinkle?"
"Oh," said the aide-de-camp, "you must hold her near enough for her to feel the slightest movement of your body."
"Humph!" grunted the general. And after a moment's thought he added, "Couldn't you get up some mixed dances here?"