New Ulm review. (New Ulm, Brown County, Minn.) 1892-1961, 1905-12-27
A Dancing
Girl
By Martha Observation-Disclosures
Copyright, 1906, by P. C. Eastment

r Miranda loved color and light and
music. Somewhere in her pedigree
there must have been a strain of trOp.
ic blood, else how account for her de
sires any more than for her silky black
hair, her liquid black eyes, her fine
olive skin touched with scarlet? Her
dancing as well was wholly untaught,
untimed save by the sweep of the
wind, the lulling patter of raindrops
on the cottage roof She danced only
when she thought herself alone. Her
grandfather, the minister, thought
dancing of any sort a deadly sin.
He had heart kind and true, this
bent, white haired old gentleman, and
truly loved his one grandchild. 1t was
his creed, not himself which forced
him to deny her the things her youth
craved. He did not understand her
any more than he had understood his
wife her grandmother, who had died.
leaving behind a baby girl that grew
up the feminine counterpart of it's ia
Their.
It was a queer, a piteous jest of fate
that gave her, a woman born for the
missionary cause, such piece of quick.
silver as Miranda for q daughter How
the girl came by the quicksilver except
through the grandmother was puzzle
airy, meek i'll all things except regard
ing his chosen work There he had a
lions heart, a Spartan's endurance.
Thus Miranda had been left behind
when her parents went to the far east.
That was ten years back-so long ago
they were little more to her now than
memories.
Miranda picked up her mothers lat
est letter. The paper was thin, the
writing fine and Grabbed, but she was
girls in one of the heather temples.
After the third reading she shut her
eyes. Her mother had dwelt feelingly
upon the horror, the impiety Of it all,
but somehow there had crept between
the lines enough of the east to bewitch
the reader. She seemed to see it all
the crowd. the lights, the wreaths Of
smoking incense, the figures swaying
in time and tune. And as she thus saw
mentally there came to her longing
not to be resisted to dance, dance,
dance, the night away.
It was evening. Her grandfather
was away at special service in his
mission chapel. She had been left be.
hind to finish some slight household
tasks. Half mile down the street
the Brixton fancy ball was in full
blast. She had a card to it-one she
had not dared to display. Now, insane
ly, she made up her mind to go-not-
withstanding her formal regrets. She
would not go as Miranda Acton-rather
as a dancing girl from a world I'M.
known.
Her mother had sent home COM
plete outfit to be sold at the Twelfth
Night st. Barnabas fair. With shaking
hands she huddled herself into it, then
looked at herself in the glass. The eff
feet startled her, but it convinced her
there must be further disguise. She
caught up her water colors, gave her.
self a dusky complexion, carmine
cheeks and heavy black lashes. She
stained her arms, her ankles, her bare
throat.
By the time it was done the clock
was striking 10. In half an hour her
grandfather would be home. For a
minute she hesitated, then, almost be-
fore she knew it, she had goloshes over
her sandals, and, we'll wrapped in her
long macintosh, was out in the street.
Presently she found herself in the
Brixtons' library. She had crushed
through a great multitude Of figures
nearly as much out of the common as
her own. She remembered, too. having
dropped a frightened courtesy to state
" Nine. Brixton, who had stared at
her. then smiled kindly welcome, and
let her slip away in the crowd.
The band was playing. In the room
beyond all sorts and conditions of folks
whirled madly about. Miranda glanc-
ed at them and shrank back. They
We're dancing two and two-she could
only dance alone-and dance she must
The stealing music said so beyond per-
adventure. The library was empty.
Half unconsciously she began to foot
it over the polished hoor weaving back
and forth, bending, swaying, balancing
upon one foot, arms up, arms down Or
extended as though in entreaty.
On, on, on, she bent and swayed, now
stamping one tiny foot, now pirouettlng
with untaught grace, unconscious that
two pairs of eyes watched her from the
ambush of heavy curtains swung across
a deep window seat. They were mas
culine eyes-Tom Brixton and his city
friend, just back from globe trotting,
had found harbor there. They gazed
spellbound at Miranda, then GREATNESS
~ at each other.
TT is miracle" Tom whispered at
last, zone that shows how blood will
tell. I know our dancer. She's old
Parson Carriers granddaughter, the
prettiest girl in the county. Let's 60
out and take possession of her. We
understand, but if the others saw-my!
There would be kettle Of fish!'
'Be still! 1t is sacrilege to think OF
stopping her," Landon, the city friend
said, breathing hard, "and it would be