tep--the Marchioness and the Boy, pointing
their daintily slippered feet, moved up and down, back and forth,
swinging, turning, courtesying, bowing over the parquet floor with such
childishly stately yet charming grace that their rhythmic motions were
as a song without words.

The father-lover stood with his back to the mantel and applauded after
an especially well executed flourish or courtesy; Aunt Ruth looked over
her shoulder, smiling, her hands wandering slowly over the keys. At
last, the final flourish, the final courtesy. The Marchioness' dress
fairly swept the floor, and the Boy bowed so low that--well,
Flibbertigibbet never could tell how it happened, but she had a warm
place in her heart for that boy ever after--he quietly and methodically
stood head downwards on his two hands, his white silk stockings and
patent leathers kicking in the air.

The Marchioness was laughing so hard that she sat down in a regular
"cheese" on the floor; the father-lover was clapping his hands like mad;
the lady swung round on the piano stool and shook her forefinger at the
Boy who suddenly came right side up at last, hand on his heart, and
bowed with great dignity to the little girl on the floor. Then he, too,
laughed and cut another caper just as a solemn-faced butler came in with
wraps and furs. But by no means did he remain solemn long! How could he
with the Boy prancing about him, and the Marchioness playing at
"Catch-me-if-you-can" with her father-lover, and the lady slipping and
sliding over the floor to catch the Boy who was always on the other side
of the would-be solemn butler? Why, he actually swung round in a circle
by holding on to that butler's dignified coat-tails!

Nor were they the only ones who laughed. Across the way in one of the
Orphan Asylum windows, Sister Angelica and the children laughed too, in
spirit joining in the fun, and when the butler came to the window to
draw the shades there were three long "Ah's," both of intense
disappointment and supreme satisfaction.

"Watch out, now," said Flibbertigibbet excitedly on the way down into
the basement for supper and dishwashing, for it was their turn this
week, "an' yer'll see me dance yer a minute in the yard ter-morrow."

"Yer can't dance it alone," replied doubting Freckles; "yer've got to
have a boy."

"I don't want one; I'll take you, Freckles, for a boy." Clumsy Freckles
blushed with delight beneath her many beauty-spots at such promise of
unwonted g