"Perhaps you won't."
She stared at him. "What in the world do you mean?"
"I don't mean anything," said he, laughing. "I'm like a small boy bursting with the secret information that there's to be ice-cream for dinner. So I don't mean anything—but I'd like to shake hands on it, just the same."
"Jarvis!" She let him seize both her hands and shake them up and down.
"You do mean something!"
"Come out in the hall and do the corn-stalk prance with me."
"The corn-stalk prance! What in the world is that? Are you crazy?"
"I'll teach it to you," and he led her out into the wide hall, which had been all the evening the most attractive spot in the house. He pulled two stalks from one of the sheaves which stood on each side of the great fireplace. He handed her one, and throwing the other across his shoulder as if it were a gun, marched to the drawing-room door. The musicians were just putting away their instruments, having played till the last guests were out of hearing.
"Just one more, will you?" he asked, grinning at them in a way which they understood meant an extra fee.
Then he came back to Sally. "Now for it!" he said. "I never did this myself,—nor heard of it—but if we can't do an impromptu turn to-night, on our high spirits, we never can again. Come on!"—as the music burst forth. And he made her an impressive bow.
Smiling, and ready enough to follow his lead, Sally returned him a sweeping courtesy, in minuet style.