They leaped with one, or, at the most, two legs at a time; they never left the ground, or in leaving, they wished to know the reason why.

It was this paralysis'"-- Mr.Stone did not pause, but, finding himself close beside his desk, took up his pen--"'it was this paralysis of the leaping nerve which undermined their progress.

Instead of millions of leaping lambs, ignorant of why they leaped, they were a flock of sheep lifting up one leg and asking whether it was or was not worth their while to lift another.'" The words were followed by a silence, broken only by the scratching of the quill with which Mr.Stone was writing.
Having finished, he again began to pace the room, and coming suddenly on his daughter, stopped short.

Touching her shoulder timidly, he said: "I was talking to you, I think, my dear; where were we ?" Bianca rubbed her cheek against his hand.
"In the air, I think." "Yes, yes," said Mr.Stone, "I remember.

You must not let me wander from the point again." "No, dear." "Lambs," said Mr.Stone, "remind me at times of that young girl who comes to copy for me.