Mrs. Wilson continued—“Sister Convers, I feel it to be my duty to warn you—you, the daughter and granddaughter of worthy divines who abhorred all such sinful practices, that you should own that you send your children to dancing-school, astonishes and grieves my spirit. Do you know that Mr. C———, in reporting the awakening in his parish, mentions that not one of the girls that attended dancing-school were among the converts, whereas two, who had engaged to attend it, but had received a remarkable warning in a dream, were among the first and brightest?”
“I would as soon,” she continued, “follow one of my children to the grave, as to see her in that broad road to destruction, which leads through a ball-room.”
“It is easy enough,” replied Mrs. Convers, (adjusting her smart mourning cap at the glass) “to run down sins we have no fancy for.”
Mrs. Wilson's ready answer was prevented by the entrance of Jane's humble friend, who asked, if the ladies had determined what was to be done with the little girl.
Mrs. Wilson in her vehemence had quite forgotten the object of their meeting, but now brought back to it, and instigated by a feeling of superiority to Mrs. Convers, and a little nettled by the excuses of Mrs. Daggett, which she thought were meant as a boast of superior piety, she said, that as she had no dancing-masters to pay, and had not “that morning agreed” to adopt a Cherokee—she could afford to take Jane for a little while. The child, she said.
