"It is a quadrille, Count," says she, "and I never join in one."
"A quadrille, pardonne! You are right. When you daunce—if you daunce—why, of course, you daunce a round daunce."
The fellow flung out his white hands, making a little dive forward with each word; then he saw my face, which must have spoken volumes, and slacked off his antics. I don't think he liked the cut of my smile, for, crooking up his elbow, he leaned forward, and says he:
"May I be honored with a promenade?"
She took his arm, and the two fluttered off into the crowd, which was pouring off into a large room beyond the one we were in.
"The meeting is going to commence now in good earnest," I thought. "I'll try and get a seat where I can hear."
Cousin Dempster and E. E. came up, and I joined in. The lecture-room was long, and lighted up beautifully. Right in front of the door was the singers' gallery, hung round with red cloth, and over that hung great wreaths of flowers, but I saw neither pulpit nor reading-desk.
"Where will the minister be?" I whispered to Cousin Dempster.
"Oh, he will open the ball."
"Open the ball! What do you mean?" says I. "A minister dancing! I won't believe it."