On the morrow the Bicycle-man appeared as usual. "It is all settled," he said. "I hope to marry the doll to whom the Red House belongs, before the week is out. I fear my marriage will be a disappointment to many a lady." The Little Dancer made no reply: she was too heart-broken to utter a sound. "Are you not going to wish me happiness?" he asked. But the Little Dancer still spoke not. She danced faster and faster as the tears fell from her eyes. The Bicycle-man did not notice how quickly her tears were falling. "Your silence is a sad want of manners," he said. "Uncivility is far from attractive." Still the little Dancer made no answer; she could not speak, she was crying so bitterly. "Well, good-day," he said. "It is very evident that you did not pay the extra twopence for manners." Then he left. "Stop dancing," said the Little China Doll to the Little Dancer. "You are not in a fit state to dance. You will kill yourself." "I _must_ dance till I forget, or till I die," she answered--sobbing. And then she danced faster, _faster_, FASTER, till she went at quite a furious rate. Her little feet went to and fro so quickly you could hardly see them. The China Doll implored the poor Little Dancer to stop, but she did not heed her. She continued dancing, dancing, dancing all through the day, all through the evening, and far into the night. Till, at last, something within her went--_Snap_! And she fell flat on the ground, and the gay little tune stopped suddenly. The clockwork within her had broken. She had danced herself to death! The next morning the Bicycle-man came again. "The wedding is put off--" he began. Then he saw the lifeless form of the Little Dancer, and he turned pale. "You have killed her by your vanity," said the China Doll severely. "If you had stayed away she would have forgotten you. But you _would_ come because it pleased your conceit to hear her say she loved you, and to hear her lament because you did not love her. She has danced herself to death in her despair. Alas! Alas! My poor friend!" "I really believe I loved her after all," said the Bicycle-man in a sad voice. "What can I say or do to make some slight amends? Tell me." "There is nothing to be said or done," said the China Doll. "The poor Little Dancer is dead. It is too late! Go and marry the Doll of the Red House." "I don't want to _now_," he answered. "Henceforward my life shall be passed mourning for the Little Dancer who broke her heart because of me. And from this time I shall ride my bicycle sitting with my back to the handle, and with my hands behind me. It will be a most absurd position, but it will serve as a punishment to remind me of the sad end to which my vanity brought my poor little sweetheart." And he strictly kept his resolve. At first the other Toys laughed: then they wondered; then they inquired into the meaning of so strange a performance. And when they heard the story, such of them as had heads shook them, and all said gravely: