a saloon, so that won't do; and the Concert Hall, which costs
twenty-five dollars a night. We would, of course, see that the club was
cleaned after every meeting, and pay for the lights. I--I think that's
about all," finished Sidney, feeling that she had put her case rather
ineloquently, and coming to a full stop. She sat down, her eyes
nowhere, her cheeks very red.

There was the silence of utter surprise in the room. After a pause,
Mrs. White raised a gloved hand. Permission from the chair was given
Mrs. White to speak.

"Your idea would be to give the Old Paloma girls a dance here, Mrs.
Burgoyne?"

"Regular dances, yes," said Sidney, standing up. "To let them use the
clubhouse, say, two nights a week. Reading, and singing, and sewing one
night, perhaps, and a dance another. Or we could get good
moving-picture films, or have a concert or play, and ask the mothers
and fathers now and then; charades and Morris dances, something like
that."

"Dancing and moving-pictures--oh, dear, dear!" said Mrs. White, with a
whimsical smile and a shake of her head, and there was laughter.

"All those things take costuming, and that takes money," said the
chairman, after a silence, rather hesitatingly.

"Money isn't the problem," Mrs. Burgoyne rejoined eagerly; "you'll find
that they spend a good deal now, even for the wretched pleasures they
have."

There was another silence. Then Mrs. White again gained permission to
speak, and rose to do so.

"I think perhaps Mrs. Burgoyne, being a newcomer here, doesn't quite
understand our feeling toward our little club," she said very
pleasantly. "We built it," she went on, with a slight touch of emotion,
"as a little refuge from everything jarring and unpleasant; we meant it
to stand for something a little BETTER and FINER than the things of
everyday life can possibly be. Perhaps we felt that there are already
too many dances and too many moving-picture shows in the world; perhaps
we felt that if we COULD forget those things for a little while--I
don't mean," said Mrs. White smilingly reasonable, "that the reform of
wayward girls isn't a splendid and ennobling thing; I believe heartily
in the work institutions and schools are doing along those lines,
but--" and with a pretty little gesture of helplessness she flung out
her hands--"but we can't have a Hull House in every little town, you
know, and I'm afraid we shouldn't find very many Jane Addamses if we
did! Good girls don't need thi