variously modified forms—some of them disinfected—to watering-places, and thence, carried by hundreds of older male and female Fanchons, over the country, being eagerly adopted everywhere and made wholly pure and respectable by the supreme moral axiom that anything is all right if enough people do it. Everybody was doing it.
Not quite everybody. It was perhaps some test of this dance that earth could furnish no more grotesque sight than that of children doing it.
Earth, assisted by Fanchon, was furnishing this sight at Penrod's party. By the time ice-cream and cake arrived, about half the guests had either been initiated into the mysteries by Fanchon or were learning by imitation, and the education of the other half was resumed with the dancing, when the attendant ladies, unconscious of what was happening, withdrew into the house for tea.
"That orchestra's a dead one," Fanchon remarked to Penrod. "We ought to liven them up a little!"
She approached the musicians.
"Don't you know," she asked the leader, "the Slingo Sligo Slide?"
The leader giggled, nodded, rapped with his bow upon his violin; and Penrod, following Fanchon back
