The restraint passed, and when Floss Dickerson came out with eulogy for any man his status was settled for good and all.  Margaret plunged once more into her treasures of early schooldays.  Floss and Elinor made merry over some verses Margaret had handed up with a blush.  Helen apparently lapsed into a brooding abstraction.  And presently Dorothy excused herself, and kissing Margaret good-bye, left for home.

The instant she had gone Margaret’s gay and reminiscent mood underwent a change.

“Girls, I want to know what Daren Lane did or said on Friday night at Fanchon’s,” spoke up Margaret.  “You know mother dragged me home.  Said I was tired.  But I wasn’t.  It was only because I’m a wall-flower....  So I missed what happened.  But I’ve heard talk enough to make me crazy to know about this scandal.  Kit Benson was here and she hinted things.  I met Bessy Bell.  She asked me if I knew.  She’s wild about Daren.  That yellow-legged broiler!  He doesn’t even know her....  My brother Blair would not tell me anything.  He’s strong for Daren.  But mother told me Daren had lost his standing in Middleville.  She always hated Daren.  Afraid I’d fall in love with him.  The idea!  I liked him, and I like him better now—­poor fellow!...  And last, when El mentioned Daren, did you see Dal’s face?  I never saw Dal look like that.”

“Neither did I,” replied Elinor.

“Well, I have,” spoke up Helen, with all of her mother’s bluntness.  “Dal always was love-sick over Daren, when she was a mere kid.  She never got over it and never will.”

“Still water runs deep,” sapiently remarked Elinor.  “There’s a good deal in Dal.  She’s fine as silk.  Of course we all remember how jealous she was of other girls when Daren went with her.  But I think now it’s because she’s sorry for Daren.  So am I. He was such a fool.  Fanchon swears no nice girl in Middleville will ever dance that new camel-walk dance in public again.”

“What did Daren say?” demanded Margaret, with eyes lighting.

“I was standing with Helen, and Fanchon when Daren came up.  He looked—­I don’t know how—­just wonderful.  We all knew something was doing.  Daren bowed to Fanchon and said to her in a perfectly clear voice that everybody heard:  ’I’d like to try your camel-walk.  I’m out of practice and not strong, but I can go once around, I’m sure.  Will you?’”

‘You’re on, Dare,’ replied Fanchon.

Then he asked.  ‘Do you like it?’

‘I’ll say so, Dare—­crazy about it.’

’Of course you know why it’s danced—­and how it’s interpreted by men,’ said Daren.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Fanchon, growing red and flustered.

“Then Daren said:  ’I’ll tell your mother.  If she lets you dance with that understanding—­all right.’  He bent over Mrs. Smith and said something.  Mrs. Wrapp heard it.  And so did Mrs. Mackay, who looked pretty sick.  Mrs. Smith nearly fainted!... but she recovered enough to order Daren to leave.”