firelight flashing through the thin, gray draperies. Even the Professor breathed a little faster as the lithe figure swayed and bent and curved into wonderful lines, which melted ever into new ones. It was young, elemental joy, every step of it; sexless, no Bacchante dance, but rather a pæon of ecstasy, such as a dryad might have danced in the woods. At the climax she stood poised, her arms lifted in exultation. Then she dropped beside him.
“My child!” he exclaimed. “That was most extraordinary! Where did you learn it?”
“Ages back, when I lived in a tree.”
“It must be a happy secret to make you dance like that.”
“Oh,” said she, snuggling up to him, putting her head on his shoulder, “it is the gayest, pleasantest, hopefulest secret a girl ever had. If I don’t hold my hands over my mouth, it will break out of me.”
“Does Jarvis know?”
“Oats, peas, beans, and barley grows,
You, nor he, nor nobody knows!”
she laughed. “It’s going to be the most amusing
