The young men came to her with confidences, they asked her advice, they kept her amused with tales of their adventures; some true, some greatly diversified; and she listened with a shrewd little smile and a wag of the head—so they never were quite sure whether they were "fooling" Grandma or not.
To her, as a general confidant, came Miss Peeder with a tale of woe. The little hall that she rented for her dancing classes had burned down on a windy Sunday, and there was no other suitable and within her means.
"There's Sloan's; but it's over a barroom—it's really not possible. And Baker's is too expensive. The church rooms they won't let for dancing—I don't know what I am to do, Mrs. Pettigrew!"
"Why don't you ask Orella Elder to rent you her dining-room—it's big enough. They could move the tables——"
Miss Peeder's eyes opened in hopeful surprise. "Oh, if she would! Do you think she would? It would be ideal."
Miss Elder being called upon, was quite fluttered by the proposition, and consulted Dr. Bellair.
"Why not?" said that lady. "Dancing is first rate exercise—good for us all. Might as well have the girls dance here under your eye as going out all the time—and it's some addition to the income. They'll pay extra for refreshments, too. I'd do it."
With considerable trepidation Miss Orella consented, and their first "class night" was awaited by her in a state of suppressed excitement.
To have music and dancing—"with refreshments"—twice a week—in her own house—this seemed to her like a career of furious dissipation.