“For this reason,” said Anna, “I like dancing as a social recreation.  It is a mutual pleasure.  We give and receive enjoyment.”

The old minister’s face grew serious.

“I have been to three or four parties,” continued the young girl, “where dancing was excluded, under some strange idea that it was wrong; and I must say that so much evil-speaking and censoriousness it has never been my lot to encounter in any company.  The time, instead of being improved as a season of mental and bodily recreation, was worse than wasted.  I know that I was worse instead of better on returning from each of these companies, for I insensibly fell into the prevailing spirit.”

“That was very bad, certainly,” remarked Mr. Archer, before whose mind arose some pictures of social gatherings, in which had prevailed the very spirit condemned by his young companion.  “But I don’t see how you are going to make dancing a sovereign remedy for the evil.”

“It is not a sovereign remedy,” was answered, “but it is a concert of feeling and action, in which the mind is exhilarated, and in which a mutual good-will is produced.  You cannot dance without being pleased, to a greater or less extent, with your partners on the floor.  Often and often have I had a prejudice against persons wear off as we moved together in the dances, and I have afterwards discovered in them good qualities to which I was before blinded.”

“Uncle,” said Grace to the old man, just at this moment, bending to his ear as she spoke, and taking his hand in hers,—­“come!  I want to show you something.”

Grace drew him into the adjoining parlour, where another set was on the floor.  Two children, her younger brother and sister, were in it.

“Now, just look at Ada and Willy,” whispered Grace in his ear, as she brought him in view of the young dancers.  Ada was a lovely child, and the old uncle’s heart had already taken her in.  She was a graceful little dancer, and moved in the figures with the lightness of a fairy.  It was a beautiful sight, and in the face of all the prejudices which half a century had worn into him, he felt that it was beautiful.  As he looked upon it, he could keep the dimness from his eyes only by a strong effort.

“Is there evil in that, uncle?” asked Grace, drawing her arm within that of the old man’s.

“Is it good?” he replied.

“Yes; it is good,” said Grace, emphatically, as she lifted her eyes to his.

Mr. Archer did not gainsay her words.  He at least felt that it was not evil, though he could not admit that it was good.

Spite of the dancing, which soon ceased to offend the good old man, he passed a pleasant evening.  Perhaps, he enjoyed the Christmas party as much as any one there.