Frank, attired--in addition to his own ordinary garments--in one of St. Etheldreda's flannel petticoats and St. James's calico shirts, and with a baby's knitted bonnet on the top of his curly hair, was dancing a break-down in the middle of the hall, whilst Annabel and Ponty and the assistant housemaid were holding their sides with laughter at the ridiculous sight of him. Quick as thought Fay donned another of St. Etheldreda's scarlet petticoats, snatched a large tartan shawl from some other parish heap of garments, and started a sort of skirt-dance on her own account, and her dancing was one of the loveliest things I have ever seen. As the scarlet petticoat twirled round and round, and the tartan shawl wound and unwound itself round her slight figure, she seemed the very embodiment of youth and jollity--the living "goddess of heart-easing mirth." It made me feel young even to look at her, so full of life and joy and youth was she! Then she and Frank began a wild dance together, like a pair of leaves blown by the wind. To and fro they danced as light as air and as bright as flame, flying apart and rushing together till one hardly could tell which was which, while the old hall rang with the laughter and applause of the onlookers, until at last--after a final whirl in which their twinkling feet seemed hardly to touch the ground at all--they sank down upon the floor breathless with laughter and excitement. My heart beat so fast that I couldn't speak: the sight of their wonderful dancing had gone to my head like wine, but Annabel was differently affected. "Get up, you silly children," she said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes; "I never saw such a wild pair as you are in my life! But you must take off the Guild garments now and put them back in their proper heaps, or else we shall never get all the things sorted and packed in bundles." I went out of the hall and down the passage to the library, the dance had affected me more than I would allow anybody to see. It had made me feel young again, and I knew that young was what I must never--for Fay's sake--allow myself to feel. If I did it might weaken my resolve to play the role of the devout lover. "What a wonderful thing Youth is!" I said to myself. "Nothing but Youth could have danced such a dance as that." And then I tried to imagine Annabel and myself dressed up in Guild garments and springing about the old hall till the world grew young again; but even my imagination--which is generally supposed to be fairly rosy--bucked at this. Such a thing was unimaginable. "No," I added, with a sigh, "I was quite right. Miracles do happen nowadays, but not that particular one: there is no setting the dial ten degrees backward." CHAPTER VII THE GIFT