Spite of all its good resolutions, the Canary bird had gone to sleep, with its head under one wing, but with the first note of music it was all in a flutter of delight, and set up an opposition to the violin that threatened to rend its quivering little form in twain.
Isabel, light and graceful as the bird, sprang from her seat and began to waltz about the room, her curls floating in the air, and her cheeks bright as a ripe peach. She looked like a fairy excited by the music.
"Come, what if we all get up a dance?" said Chester, approaching the needle-merchant's wife.
She looked at her husband.
"A capital idea!" cried the little man, all in a glow, seizing upon the hand of the widow.
"Indeed, I—I—my dancing days are over," faltered the widow, half withdrawing her hand, but looking provokingly irresolute.
"Oh, aunty, let me see you dance once, only this once!" cried the boy, breaking the strain of his music.
The widow turned a look of tenderness upon her charge, and with a blush on her cheek was led to the floor.
"They want another couple—who will dance with me?" said Mrs. Chester, casting a smiling challenge at the old gentleman.
"Oh, father, do," cried the boy, "see, they cannot get along without you."