"Sure! She's a wonder at it."
"What scoundrel taught my poor child such—such—Who taught her, I say?"
"Gosh!" sniffed Horace, "sis don't need teachin'. She's teachin' the rest of 'em. They're crazy about her."
"Teaching others! My g-g-goodness! Where did she learn?"
"Chicago, I guess."
"Oh, the wickedness of these cities and the foreigners that are dragging our American homes down to their own level!"
"I guess the foreigners got nothin' on us," said Horace. "It's a Namerican dance."
"What are we coming to? Go tell Prue to come here at once. I'll put a stop to that right here and now."
Serina gave him one searing glance, and he understood that he could not deliver his edict to Prue yet awhile. He heard her singing even more barbaric strains. The chandelier danced with a peculiar savagery, then the dance was evidently quenched and subdued. Awestruck yowls from above indicated that Prue was in hot water.
"This is the last straw!" groaned papa, with all the wretchedness of a father learning that his daughter was gone to the bad.