“Yes, dear.”

“Certainly I do, uncle.  You don’t think there is harm in dancing?”

“I do, my child.  And, I am sure that, after what you said about reading your Bible and trying to live for heaven, your admission greatly surprises me.  Religion and dancing!  How can they have an affinity?”

“Good and evil can have no affinity,” said Grace, in reply to this remark.  “Evil, I have always understood to be in a purpose to do wrong.  Now, I can dance with a good purpose; and, surely, then, dancing cannot be evil to me.”

“Dance with a good purpose!  How can you do that, my dear?”

“I have often danced with the sole end of contributing my share to the general enjoyment of a company.”

“Strange enjoyment!” sighed the old parson.

“The timing of steps, and the orderly movement of the body in concert with musical harmonies, often affects the mind with exquisite delight, uncle.  I have enjoyed this over and over again, and have felt better and happier afterwards.”

“Child! child!” replied the old man; “how it grieves me to hear you say this.”

“If there is sin in dancing, uncle,” said Grace, seriously, “tell me wherein it lies.  Look at the countenances of those now on the floor; do they express evil or good affection?—­here, as I have been taught, lies the sin.”

“It is a foolish waste of time,” returned the old man; “a foolish waste of time; and it is an evil thing to waste the precious time that God has given to us.”

“We cannot always work or read.  Both mind and body become wearied.”

“Then we have time for meditation.”

“But even thought will grow burdensome at times, and the mind sink into listlessness and inactivity.  Then we need recreation, in order that we may afterwards both work and think better.  Music and dancing, in which mind and body find an innocent delight, effect such a recreation.  I know it is so in my case; and I know it is so in the case of others.  You do not say that dancing is a thing evil in itself?”

“No.”  This was admitted rather reluctantly.

“Then if it be made to serve a good end, it is a good thing.”

“But is often made to serve evil,” said the minister.

“Then it is an evil thing,” promptly answered Grace; “and so every good gift of heaven may be made an evil thing to those who use it for an evil purpose.  You know it is said that a spider extracts poison from the same flower where the bee gets honey.  The deadly nightshade draws life from the same rain and sunshine that nourishes and matures the wheat, from which our bread is made.  It is the purpose, uncle, that makes a thing evil.”

“Could you pray on going to bed, after an evening spent in dancing?” asked the old man, confident that he had put a question that would clearly show his niece her error.  To his surprise, Grace answered, with a beautiful smile on her face—­