little known, yet not strange at all; it was a summons never heard until
now, yet instantly obeyed; because, though unfamiliar and unforeseen, it
was of England and came, even though it was centuries upon the way, to
kinsfolk. Let the precisian explain it as he may, that is our way of
accounting for an experience both fruitful and astounding. Within half an
hour of the coming of these Morris-men we saw the Bean-setting--its
thumping and clashing of staves, its intricate figures and steps hitherto
unknown--full swing upon a London floor. And upon the delighted but
somewhat dazed confession of the instructor, we saw it perfect in
execution to the least particular. Perfect, yet in a different order of
perfection from that attainable by men. It may be noted here and now by
all who have to do with the instruction of girls in the Morris, that the
feminine temperament inevitably robs the dance of something of its
sturdiness. It is nothing to lament; for what is lost in vigour is
assuredly more than made good in gracefulness. At any rate, there was
Bean-setting, perfect in its kind. No wonder Jack-and-the-Beanstalk came
to mind and stayed there with the memory of this evening.

It was even so with all the other dances: to see them shown was to see
them learned. And the Folk-songs had prepared us for what followed: here
was no mere fugitive delight and curiosity, as of a child with a new toy.
We had given back to these children of the city no less than a birthright
long mislaid.

The Morris-men came in October. In the following February, 1906, the
songs and dances were performed before a company of friends. The
audience, if very friendly, was also very critical; and there was
represented in it, literally, every element in contemporary society. And
every element, or representatives of each, exhorted us to give our
performance in public, since it was so good that the world in general