Nell laughed. She began to look rosy, what with the comfort of the fire and the glow imparted by the tea.
“How shall we begin?” she asked.
“On with the dance, let joy be unconfined,” proclaimed Mr. Swiveller. With the words he drew from the bosom of his bottle-green coat a fife. “Here is linked sweetness, long drawn out, or shall be. And now, if you have finished eating, let us push aside the tables and begin.”
Suiting the action to the word, and gladly assisted by the three girls, he cleared the centre of the room, and sitting in an easy and careless position on one corner of the table, he set his instrument to his lips, beginning at once to pipe a melody, somewhat jerky, to be sure, but certainly lively and provocative.
With much laughter, the two sisters set to work to teach Nell the one-step. She was apt enough, and graceful as a kitten at play, once the newness of the experience wore off. Dick himself insisted upon joining the dancers, playing the while as well as might be, and more discordantly than ever, but with a sense of time that made up for the rest of his defects as a musician. Presently he showed them a jig, and in this Ruth soon became expert, distancing the two other girls, and evoking from her instructor the most rapturous praise.
But at last, exhausted by the vigour of their efforts, they all sank laughing into chairs, unable to take another step.
“Let’s play something quiet,” said Rose. “Do you know Up Jenkins, Mr. Swiveller?”
“No, princess,” returned Dick, sadly. “In some respects my education has been shamefully neglected. I never so much as heard of Mr. Up Jenkins.”
So they laughed at that, and then the sister instructed Nell and Dick in the mysteries of the game. Seated at the table, Rose and Nell on one side and Dick and Ruth at the other, they brought out a nice new shilling from Rose’s reticule. The business of the game was for the side holding the shilling to bring it down, concealed in one of the four hands, flat upon the table at the command “Down Jenkins” from the captain of the opposing side. His business it was, or hers, to order up one by one the four out-spread hands, saying sternly “Up Jenkins,” to each. The one under which the shilling lay to be the last. If the captain, consulting freely with the other member of his side, guessed accurately, the shilling changed over; if not, it remained in the possession of the foe. But if the enemy made the mistake of obeying the command of any one but the captain, or lifted a hand when it was simply pointed to, without waiting for the command, or broke several other rules, why the shilling was lost to them. It was a good, noisy game and, played with the fervour devoted to it by this little party, afforded endless amusement. Dick in especial proved a wonder, for his sly methods of causing the opposing captain to think the shilling was under his hand when it really lay cosily with Ruth, his extraordinary flow of language, his quick, stern commands when he was not the captain, these and numerous other tricks kept his new friends in an almost unbroken storm of laughter.
Suddenly a gleam of sunlight fell across the table, and looking out the four saw that the rain had passed. The motherly landlady entering the room at the same moment, they told her they must go. But first Rose had her fill the little basket with a variety of good things to eat, which were to be taken to Nell’s grandfather. Then, bidding Dick good-bye, though he placed his hand on his heart and declared solemnly that he should not be able to support life unless he were allowed to play Up Jenkins at least twice a day with them in future, they walked out into the sunlight, which gleamed from low in the west, for evening was approaching.