E. R. Punshon, A Telescopic Wooing (1915)
“ For the dancer was a boy, a butcher's boy in a long blue smock, a fat and chubby boy, a boy with freckles and a snub nose, about fourteen or fifteen years old, perhaps, and his dancing was like unto the gambolling of a merry calf or a two-months-old Newfoundland puppy. No, I didn't laugh. I didn't even feel inclined to. The situation was too awful and Tommy's face too tragic. The boy danced solemnly on—capered, I should say. I stole a glance at Tommy, and quickly looked away again. There are some sights not meant for human eyes to rest on. ”
