“Doin’ what?”
“Dancin’. Them’s some of the new steps.”
“‘Steps’? Them warn’t steps, Almiry.”
“So they call ’em, Jason,” she said, meekly enough. “They say them steps will help ter remove super-floo-ous flesh, and build up tissue.”
“Great Cannibal Islands!” exploded Uncle Jason. “Ye don’t mean ter say ye think that you air made of tissue? That’s too thin—huh!” and he snorted his disgust. “And what’s become of your rheumatism? You was gruntin’ an’ groanin’ here a spell back if ye had to stoop and pick up the poker; and now ye air slinkin’ an’ slidin’ about here like an overgrown eel. I never seen the beat! Have all ye wimmen gone plumb crazy? Don’t, for massy’s sake, let the children see ye—an old woman like you!”
That last finally struck a spark from Aunt ’Mira. She had meekly returned to the turning of the pork and flapjacks; now she exclaimed:
“I ain’t! I ain’t old—nor you ain’t old, Jason Day! That’s jest it—we let our elves sag back an’ feel old! But we oughtn’t to—no, sir! It’s our duty to keep young. Dancing helps do it, and keeps us limber. We’re only in the prime o’ life, you an’ me, Jason. We ain’t no right to act like one foot was in the grave an’ the other all but. No, sir!
“‘Don’t let yourself sag!’ That’s what the dancin’ teacher says. Keep it in mind ter walk straight, an’ hold yer head up; when ye can, take a few steps for exercise.”
“My soul an’ body, Almiry! Stop it! Don’t wiggle that-a-way again,” gasped Uncle Jason, as his good lady executed a few more posturings. “’Tain’t decent! And here’s Marty a-comin’ in with the milk.”