Doris was sympathetic as always, sympathetic in that unvoiced silence that understands everything, and hurts not a single particle. She knew by instinct that Rosalie was sick at heart. So they talked of other things, and after they got into bed she said tenderly: "You were lovely, Rosalie, and I was so proud of you. And though you were very gay and lively, you were sweet, and had a sort of Presbyterian dignity about you that made you different." Rosalie kissed her quickly, but did not speak. When the family met again at the breakfast table Zee was overwhelming in her interest. "How was the party? Did Rosalie flirt? Did all the men fall down at her feet stone dead?" "No, little goose, they didn't. Men don't any more. And Rosalie did not flirt--exactly--and the party was glorious." Doris did not glance at Rosalie, intent on the oatmeal before her. "Were you the most beautiful ones there? Was anybody dazzled? Did the women wear low-necked dresses? Alice Graves says they don't wear any sleeves at all. Did they dance? Were there any members there? What did you have to eat?" "Oh, you little chatter-box! How can I answer so many questions? Rosalie was dazzling--did you ever dream that I could dazzle anything? Yes, the ladies did. Yes, they danced. Yes, there were a lot of members. They had ices, and cakes, and coffee, and things to drink and--" "And father," said Rosalie suddenly, "I pinned down the lace in the neck of my dress so it would show my shoulders." He turned to Doris for confirmation. "Just a little, father," she said loyally. "It did not show much, and Rosalie looked beautiful. I did not object to it." "And I danced." This was nothing short of a bomb bursting upon them. Even Zee was silenced. Doris felt all the pain of motherhood over an erring first-born. Slowly their father rallied. "Did you do it--well? I hope you didn't stumble, or walk on ladies' dresses, or anything." "She did it beautifully," said Doris meekly. "Father, I ask you frankly, as man to man, is it wrong to dance?" "We have been taught, Rosalie," he began slowly, but she interrupted him. "That isn't fair. You tell me what you think. Why should we leave it to other men that we don't know? How can they decide? Do they know more about it than we do? It doesn't condemn it in the Bible. That would be decisive. But why do these other men take the privilege of deciding things for the rest of us?" "They were wise men, and good. We let great statesmen make our laws, and we obey. We let great teachers tell us what and how to study that we may become educated, and we obey them. We let great doctors tell us how to safeguard our health, and we obey them. We let the leaders in all other professions tell us what to do, where to go, what to eat, what to wear--and we obey. We might trust the fathers of the church a little, don't you think?"