“Well,” said Tom, “it does not become me to jump with you, gentlemen. I can, it is true, cut out most of the young villagers at leaping; but it would be presuming to enter into your sports, gentlemen.” “Nonsense,” said Thorsby, “I want to see what you can do. I don’t want to show my leaping, and have you laughing in your sleeve at my inferiority.” “Well,” said Tom, “if master sees us, you will make my excuses.” “Of course,” said both Thorsby and Dr. Leroy. Tom having stripped off his coat, led the way. The young men were amazed at the manner in which he seemed to throw himself through the air, as if he had been an elastic ball. “We shall never do that,” said Thorsby, taking a determined run, and turning very red in the face, but falling a few inches short of Tom’s mark. Dr. Leroy, very quietly, and without much apparent exertion, outwent Tom considerably; but the next time Tom flew a foot beyond this. Thorsby put forth all his strength, but only to find that both he and Dr. Leroy were hopelessly distanced by this wiry little fellow. They next tried the cat-gallows, or high leaping. The result was the same. “There is no chance with you, Tom,” said Thorsby; “you must have kangaroo-leather shoes on.” “No,” said Tom; “I’ll jump in my bare feet if you like.” “No, thank you, Tom,” added Thorsby and Dr. Leroy together. “And hark! what’s that? Why, the girls are singing! Singing, I declare,” said Thorsby, “in the very heart of Quakerdom.” They hurried off in the direction of the sound, and came to where the large handsome summer-house stood overlooking the garden-wall. Around it was gathered the greater part of the company, and a chorus of voices swelled up from the summer-house, singing most deliciously, Moore’s “Harp of Tara.” “Aha! how’s this?” said Thorsby to George Woodburn. “Oh, it is a conspiracy of the girls. I believe that Yorkshire young lady put them up to it. She, my sisters, and Miss Heritage, have got possession of the summer-house and locked themselves in, and are enjoying the lark amazingly. And don’t they sing charmingly.” “It’s grand fun,” said Thorsby; “look, even the old Friends, who say they don’t like music, how they are listening. Look even at that old Silenus, David Qualm, how he is drinking it in as he sits under the tree there. And Mrs. Heritage,—oh, she is smiling quite forgetfully at this carnal outburst.” “Whist! whist!” said Mr. Heritage, equally forgetting his professed aversion to music. Thorsby jogged Dr. Leroy’s arm, and whispered, “Hear that now!—is not that rich?”