She threw down her cap, and bounding forward, with the light strong spring of a bayadere, to the parallel bars, put her hands on the poles, and leaped up between them. Then, with a succession of springs, she traversed the whole length, leaping along the bars on her hands; then, back again to the centre, where she swung to and fro for an instant; and, as she rose again, vaulted over and alighted in the middle of the room, tossing the air into perfume. “Bravo!” cried Wentworth. “That’s religion, as Emerson says.” “Emerson!” chided Mrs. Eastman, amusedly. “Emerson never said any such thing.” “More shame for him,” retorted Wentworth, gaily. “Kingsley says so, at any rate.” “Kingsley!” she replied, in the same amused, chiding tone. “Yes, _ma mère_,” asserted Wentworth. “That’s what Kingsley calls muscular Christianity, and I’m going in for some of it.” He bounded forward to the bars just as Muriel was running up to them again. She stopped and stood a little one side, watching him as he swung and leaped forward. “You don’t do it half as well as Muriel,” said Mrs. Eastman, very truly. “Take care now, Richard, that’s dangerous,” cried Muriel in a warning voice, as Wentworth was swinging, preparatory to vaulting over. Wentworth laughed recklessly, and flung himself over the bars. Muriel’s warning was not without reason, for as he came over, his foot struck the pole, and, with a cry from Emily which proved her interest in him, he pitched head downward. Muriel sprang on the instant, caught him with all her strength, and set him on his feet. Wentworth reddened, and looked dazed. “Careless boy,” she chided, playfully giving him a light cuff on the ear, “you came nigh breaking your neck.” “That he did,” exclaimed Harrington; and “indeed he did,” exclaimed the others in chorus. “Saved by a fairy prince,” cried Wentworth in a mock-tragic tone. “By Jupiter, Muriel, but you’re as strong as you’re quick. I wonder how many young ladies there are in the world that could catch a fellow when he’s tumbling over neck and heels to destruction. Well, I guess I won’t try that again. Thank you, dear fairy prince.” He put her hand gallantly to his lips as he said the last words. “I declare,” cried Emily, laughing, “what would society say if it could behold these operations! I can’t help thinking how our minister at Cambridge, and all my Episcopal friends would stare at you, Muriel.” “Yes, flower of the world,” replied Muriel, “we should be awfully scandalized, no doubt. But there’s virtue in our games, nevertheless, for health is there, and health is a virtue that beckons the others on. The fencing, however, is the perfection of exercise.” “Why is that so superior?” asked Emily. “Because it develops bodily strength and activity more harmoniously than any other,” replied Muriel. “So Roland says.” “Roland?” inquired Emily. “Yes. Roland is the author of the best modern work on fencing,” answered Muriel. “Stay, I’ll read you what he says.”