Part 77 (2/2)

”Easily. Mamma, will you play a valse? Now see.” Leonore drew her skirts back with one hand, so as to show the little feet, and said: ”one, two, three, so. One, two, three, so. Now do that.”

Peter had hoped that the way to learn dancing was to take the girl in one's arms. But he recognized that this would follow. So he set to work manfully to imitate that dainty little glide. It seemed easy as she did it. But it was not so easy when he tried it.

”Oh, you clumsy,” said Leonore laughing. ”See. One, two, three, so. One, two, three, so.”

Peter forgot to notice the step, in his admiration of the little feet and the pretty figure.

”Well,” said Leonore after a pause, ”are you going to do that?”

So Peter tried again, and again, and again. Peter would have done it all night, with absolute contentment, so long as Leonore, after every failure, would show him the right way in her own person.

Finally she said, ”Now take my hands. No. Way apart, so that I can see your feet. Now. We'll try it together. One, two, change. One, two, change.”

Peter thought this much better, and was ready to go on till strength failed. But after a time, Leonore said, ”Now. We'll try it the true way.

Take my hand so and put your arm so. That's the way. Only never hold a girl too close. We hate it. Yes. That's it. Now, mamma. Again. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

This was heavenly, Peter thought, and could have wept over the shortness, as it seemed to him, of this part of the lesson.

But it ended, and Leonore said: ”If you'll practice that in your room, with a bolster, you'll get on very fast.”

”I always make haste slowly,” said Peter, not taking to the bolster idea at all kindly. ”Probably you can find time to-morrow for another lesson, and I'll learn much quicker with you.”

”I'll see.”

”And will you give me some waltzes at the dances?”

”I'll tell you what I'll do,” said Leonore. ”You shall have the dances the other men don't ask of me. But you don't dance well enough, in case I can get a better partner. I love valsing too much to waste one with a poor dancer.”

A moment before Peter thought waltzing the most exquisite pleasure the world contained. But he suddenly changed his mind, and concluded it was odious.

”Nevertheless,” he decided, ”I will learn how.”

CHAPTER LI.

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE.

Peter had his ride the next morning, and had a very interested listener to his account of that dinner. The listener, speaking from vast political knowledge, told him at the end. ”You did just right. I thoroughly approve of you.”

”That takes a great worry off my mind,” said Peter soberly. ”I was afraid, since we were to be such friends, and you wanted my help in the whirligig this winter, that you might not like my possibly having to live in Albany.”

”Can't you live in New York?” said Leonore, looking horrified.

”No.”

”Then I don't like it at all,” said Leonore. ”It's no good having friends if they don't live near one.”

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