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?"
"But it is such a simple thing. And so natural. Just moving to music, that is all. Soldiers love to march to the drum, children prance to the music of the band. It is human nature."
"My dear, if you want to move to music, let Zee here go up and down town beating a drum for you, and you march your little head off."
Rosalie joined the laughter. "I like the other kind better. Then you truly think it is—dangerous, or wrong, or unwise, or something?"