“They have not come,—the father and daughter,” he said. “I cannot think of the others now.”
“Shall we go to them?”
“Not yet. Sizzum sees us and will suspect.”
We stood by regarding, too much concerned for our new friends to feel thoroughly the humor of the scene. But it made its impression.
For lights at the Shamberlain ball, instead of the gas and wax of civilization, a fire blazed in one corner of the court, and sundry dips of unmitigated tallow, with their perfume undiluted, flared from perches against the wall. Overhead, up in the still, clear sky, the barefaced stars stared at the spectacle, and shook their cheeks over the laughable manœuvres of terrestrials.
The mundane lights, fire and dips, flashed and glimmered; the skylights twinkled merrily; the guests were assembled; the ball waited to begin.
Jake Shamberlain, the master of ceremonies, cleared a space in the middle, and “called for his fiddlers three.”
A board was laid across two barrels, and upon it Jake arrayed his orchestra, with Brother Bottery, so called, for leader. Twang went the fiddles. “Pardners for a kerdrille!” cried Jake.
Sizzum led off the ball with one of the Blowsalinds before mentioned. Dancing is enjoined in the Latter-Day Church. They cite Jephthah’s daughter and David dancing by the ark as good Scriptural authority for the custom.
“Right and left!” cried Jake Shamberlain. “Forrud the gent! The lady forrud! Forrud the hull squad. Jerk pardners! Scrape away Bottery! Kick out and no walkin’! Prance in gals! Lamm ahead, boys! Time, Time! All hands round! Catch a gal and spin her! Well, that was jest as harnsome a kerdrille as ever I seed.”