“They are making tango!” I whasper with ears full of frights.
Hon. Rev. Mr. express great sternness in his jaws like a reformer fighting Indians.
“Let me get at them!” he growell.
“O joyful!” I acknowledge. “Then you are determined to stop it?”
“No!!” he gargle. “I am determined to dance it!!!”
I collapse backwards to setty chair and permit him to advance to middle of music. For 13 1-8 minutes I remained stationary attempting to fan away my faint. Then considerable bashido filled my forehead and I leapt to my footwear. Upstairs to dance-hall parlor I go. There, surrounded by sidesteps, hand-clasps, whirligig promenades, eye-gaze, romp, Vienna tunes and acrobats I observed Hon. Rev. Mr. circulating in clutch with Mrs. Vanderbitt Jones. Determinely I advance to middle of and stand befront them.
“Hon. Mrs. Madam, if conveniently—” I commence to be interrupted.
“What is?” she require, continuing to circulate.
I am obliged to make delicious dance-motions so I can keep up, yet I pursue near her.
“If convenient I quit,” is reprove for me. I must now double three loops and whirl my arms bias to remain next.