University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
CHERRYTOE.

“Let us have a dance!” exclaimed Minnie Wall, when
all the games had been played, and the little people stood
for a moment, wondering what they should do next.

“O Mrs. Legrange! will you play for us?”

“Certainly. What will you have, Minnie? But, in the
first place, can you all dance?”

“Yes'm, every one of us. Even 'Toinette and Bessie have
learned at their Kindergarten; and the rest of us all go to
Mr. Papanti. O Mrs. Legrange! last Saturday, when you
let Susan bring 'Toinette to dancing-school, I told Mr. Papanti
what a pretty little dancer she was; and he made her
stand up, and she learned the cachuca with half a dozen
others of us; and he did laugh and bow so at her, you never
saw; and he called her enfant Cherrytoe, or something
like that” —

“Cerito,” suggested Mrs. Legrange, smiling.

“Yes'm, I guess that was it; and she learned it beautifully.
Have you seen her dance it?”

“Yes, the old gentleman called me Cherrytoe; and you
must, mamma, and every one, because I dance so pretty,
with my little toes. Will you call me Cherrytoe always,
mamma?” asked 'Toinette, with such a complacent delight
in her own accomplishments, that her mother's smile was
as sad as it was tender. But she felt that this was not the
time or place to reprove the vanity so rankly springing in
the child's heart; so she only said, —

“Mr. Papanti was in fun when he called you Cherrytoe,
my darling. She was a woman who danced better than I
hope you ever will. Now, who is ready for Virginia reel?”

Tom Burroughs led Minnie Wall to the head of the set,
the other children rushed for places, Mrs. Legrange seated
herself at the piano, and the merry dance went on; but,
when it was over, Minnie Wall returned to Mrs. Legrange's
side, followed by two or three more, begging her to
play the cachuca, and see how nicely 'Toinette could dance
it. Half unwillingly the mother complied, and found herself
really astonished as she noticed the graceful evolutions
and accurate time of the child, who went through the intricate
motions of the dance without a single mistake, and, at
the close, dropped her little courtesy, and kissed her little
hand, with the grace and self-possession of a danseuse.

The children crowded around her with a clamor of delight
and surprise; but the mother, anxiously watching her
darling's flushed face and sparkling eyes, whispered to her
cousin, as he playfully applauded, —

“Oh, don't, Tom! The child will be utterly ruined by so
much flattery and admiration. I feel very badly about it,
I assure you.”

“But she is absolutely so bewitching! How can we
help admiring her?” replied he, laughing.

“No: but it is wrong; it won't do,” persisted Mrs. Legrange.
“Just see how excited and happy she looks because
they are all admiring her! You must help me to
check it, Tom. Come, you are so famous for stories, tell
them one about a peacock, or something, — a story with a
moral about being vain, you know, only not too pointed.”

“A pill with a very thick sugar-coat,” suggested Mr. Burroughs,
and, as his cousin nodded, continued, in a louder
voice, —

“A story, ladies and gentlemen! Who will listen to the
humble attempts of an unfortunate improvisator?”

“Yes, yes, a story; let us have a story!” shouted with
one accord both girls and boys; and with 'Toinette perched
upon his knee, and the rest grouped about him, Cousin
Tom began the story of The Children of Merrigoland.