"I believe a woman would do a good deal for a dance," said Doctor Growling; "they are immensely fond of saltatory motion. I remember, once in my life, I used to flirt with a little actress who was a great favourite in a provincial town where I lived, and she was invited to a ball there, and confided to me she had no silk stockings to appear in, and without them her presence at the ball was out of the question." "That was a hint to you to buy the stockings," said Dick. "No--you're out," said Growling. "She knew I was as poor as herself; but though she could not rely on my purse, she had every confidence in my taste and judgment, and consulted me on a plan she formed for going to the ball in proper twig. Now, what do you think it was?" "To go in cotton, I suppose," returned Dick. "Out, again, sir--you'd never guess it; and only a woman could have hit on the expedient; it was the fashion in those days for ladies in full dress to wear pink stockings, and she proposed _painting her legs_!" "Painting her legs!" they all exclaimed. "Fact, sir," said the doctor; "and she relied on me for telling her if the cheat was successful----" "And was it?" asked Durfy. "Don't be in a hurry, Tom. I complied on one condition--namely, that I should be the painter." "Oh, you villain!" cried Dick. "A capital bargain!" said Tom Durfy. "But not a safe covenant," added the attorney. "Don't interrupt me, gentlemen," said the doctor. "I got some rose-pink accordingly, and I defy all the hosiers in Nottingham to make a tighter fit than I did on little Jinney; and a prettier pair of stockings I never saw." "And she went to the ball?" said Dick. "She did!" "And the trick succeeded?" added Durfy. "So completely," said the doctor, "that several ladies asked her to recommend her dyer to them! So you see what a woman will do to go to a dance. Poor little Jinney!--she was a merry minx. By-the-bye, she boxed my ears that night, for a joke I made about the stockings. 'Jinney,' said I, 'for fear your stockings should fall down when you're dancing, hadn't you better let me paint a pair of garters on them?'" The fellows laughed at the doctor's quaint conceit about the garters, but Murphy called them back to the business of the election. "What next?" he said, "public-houses and tally-rooms to have pipers and fiddlers--ay--and we'll get up as good a march, too, as Scatterbrain, with all his yeomanry band;--think a cartfull of fiddlers would have a fine effect!" "If we could only get a double-bass amongst them!" said Dick. "Talking of double-basses," said the doctor, "did you ever hear the story of the sailor in an admiral's ship, who, when some fine concert was to be given on board----" "Hang your concerts and stories!" said Murphy; "let us go on with the election." "Oh, the doctor's story!" cried Tom Durfy and Dick Dawson together.