the walls waved and fluttered with the gyrations of those religious
dervishes. Nobody knew--nobody cared how long this frenzy lasted--it
ceased only with the collapse of the musicians. Then, with much vague
bewilderment, inward trepidation, awkward and incoherent partings,
everybody went dazedly home; there was no other dancing after that--the
waltz was the one event of the festival and of the history of Santa Ana.
And later that night, when the timid Mrs. Wade, in the seclusion of her
own room and the disrobing of her slim figure, glanced at her spotless
frilled and laced petticoat lying on a chair, a faint smile--the first
of her widowhood--curved the corners of her pretty mouth.

A week of ominous silence regarding the festival succeeded in Santa
Ana. The local paper gave the fullest particulars of the opening of the
hotel, but contented itself with saying: "The entertainment concluded
with a dance." Mr. Brooks, who felt himself compelled to call upon his
late charming partner twice during the week, characteristically soothed
her anxieties as to the result. "The fact of it is, Mrs. Wade, there's
really nobody in particular to blame--and that's what gets them. They're
all mixed up in it, deacons and Sunday-school teachers; and when
old Johnson tried to be nasty the other evening and hoped you hadn't
suffered from your exertions that night, I told him you hadn't quite
recovered yet from the physical shock of having been run into by him and
Mrs. Stubbs, but that, you being a lady, you didn't tell just how you
felt at the exhibition he and she made of themselves. That shut him up."

"But you shouldn't have said that," said Mrs. Wade with a frightened
little smile.

"No matter," returned Brooks cheerfully. "I'll take the blame of it with
the others. You see they'll have to have a scapegoat--and I'm just the