He waved me politely to Margery.

“Not at all,” I said quickly “Brothers-in-law first in our family—­always.”

“Could we both come together?” asked John.

“No, you can’t,” said Margery.

“Then we must toss for it,” said John, producing a coin.

“Tails,” I called.

“Tails it is,” said John, walking across the room to Margery.

And the lesson commenced.

* * * * *

“Chassee to the right, chassee to the left, two steps forward, two steps backward, twinkle each way—­”

“Five shillings on Twinkle, please,” I interrupted.

Margery stopped and looked at me.

“You keep quiet, Alan,” shouted Cecilia, cheerfully banging the piano.

“I shall never learn,” said John miserably from the middle of the room, “not in a thousand years.”

“Yes, you will,” encouraged Margery.  “Just listen. Chassee to the right, chassee to the left, two steps forward, two steps back, twinkle each way—­”

“Take away the number you first thought of,” I suggested, “and the answer’s the Louisiana Glide.”

“To finish up,” said Margery, “we grasp each other firmly, prance round, two bars....”

“That sounds a bit better,” said John.

" ... then waltz four bars,” continued Margery, “and that’s all.  Come on, now.”

They came on....

“Good,” said Margery as they finished up; “he’s doing it splendidly, Cecilia.”

John beamed complacently.

“I got through that last bit rather well,” he said; “’pon my word, there’s more in this dancing than I thought.  I quite enjoyed that twinkling business.”

“Have another one,” I suggested.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said John.  “May I have the pleasure?” with a courtly bow to Margery.

They re-commenced.

“That’s right,” said Margery; “now two forward.”

“I must have a natural genius for dancing,” said John, conversing easily; “I seem to ...  Do we twinkle next?”

“Yes,” said Margery.

“I seem to fall into it naturally.”

“Look out!” shrieked Margery.

I don’t know exactly what happened; I rather think John got his gears mixed up in the twinkling business.  At any rate, one of his feet shot up in the air, he made a wild grab at nothing and tripped heavily backwards into the hearth.  The piano was drowned in general uproar.

John arose with difficulty from the ashes and addressed himself haughtily to Cecilia.

“I can understand that these two,” he said, waving a black but contemptuous hand at Margery and myself, “should scream with delight.  Their whole conception of humour is bound up with banana-skins and orange-peel.  But may I ask why you should have hysterics because your husband has fallen into the fireplace?”

“‘You seemed to fall into it so naturally,’” I quoted in a shaky voice.