The dance began with a special contra-dance, in which the performers copied with great exactness the profound bows and deep courtesies of the period, mimicking their masters and mistresses with curious grotesque grace.  At the extreme end of the room, near Aunt Dinah, sat the fiddler, wielding his bow with an extra flourish befitting the occasion.  Jan Steen was a well-known character, and his coming was looked upon as a special favor, only accorded to the servants because they belonged to the Verplancks, a family greatly honored and beloved among the Dutch settlers of Manhattan Island.

After the contra-dance was concluded, amid the applause and laughter of the spectators, four young slaves were singled out from the others, and took their places on the floor.  Two of these were girls, pretty mulattoes, and two young, bright-colored negro men as their partners.  To rather slow music they went through with a rhythmic dance, in which their figures swayed to and fro, chiefly from the waist, a gliding serpentine dance, evidently copied from the slaves of Martinique, and brought to New York by the French families.  And then, to Peter’s great delight, came the event of the evening, in his eyes,—­the dance of Miranda with her new admirer from Broucklen Heights.

“Miranda is my maid,” explained Clarissa to Madam De Lancey and Mrs. Morris, as they waited for the performers to take their places.  “I fetched her from Connecticut when I was married, and she is, as you see, very pretty and most graceful.  The dance is a species of Spanish dance, I fancy, for it is done with two scarfs of red and yellow; I purchased the stuff a year ago from a Dutch peddler, and Miranda begged it of me last week.”

“Cousin Clarissa,” said Peter, rushing up, “we will want more light to enable you to see this; the candles are getting low.  With your permission, may Pompey light the big lantern on the wall?”

About the middle of the kitchen hung a lantern which had once been used for illuminating purposes outside the mansion.  It contained a piece of tin which acted as a reflector; and Peter, who had never yet had the pleasure of seeing it lit, had amused himself that very morning by putting in the candles for which it was prepared, and informed Aunt Dinah that he meant to light it by way of a climax to the festivities of Christmas Eve.

“The big lantern?” replied Clarissa; “it has not been lit this three years.”

“I made it ready this morning; oh, do say yes.”

“Certainly,” said Clarissa, smiling; “but tell Pompey to be careful, Peter.”

Off flew Peter, and up on a bench mounted Pompey, nothing loth to add dignity to the scene by illuminating it.  Jan Steen drew his bow across his violin with a long, sweet note, and out on the floor glided Miranda, holding the hand of a tall, athletic-looking young negro, whose motions were grace itself.  They began at the top of the room, holding the scarfs aloft, and slowly made their way down until they were in the centre, when the full light gleamed strongly upon their raised arms, their heads well up.  Soft murmurs of applause began to steal around the room.  Betty stood with Captain Yorke and Kitty directly under the lantern, beating time with her fan.