"And what had they got? There was the streets stretching out in every direction, each house with its parlour--four-piece plush set, mebbe, and ingrain and Nottinghams, and mebbe not even that, and mebbe the rest of the family flooding the room, anyway. And what was the parlour, even with somebody to set and talk to them--what was the parlour, compared to the _magic_ they was craving and couldn't name? The feeling young and free and springy, and the wanting somehow to express it? Something to do, somewheres to go, something to see, somebody to be with and laugh with--no wonder they swept out into the dark in numbers, no wonder they took the night as they could find it. They didn't have no hotel piazza of their own, no boat-rides, no seashore, no fine parties, no automobiles--no nothing but the big, exciting dark that belongs to us all together. No wonder they took it for their own.
"Why, Friendship Village was no more than a great big ball-room with these young folks leaving the main floor and setting in the alcoves, to unseen music. If the alcoves had been all palms and expense and dressed-up chaperons on the edges, everything would of seemed right. As it was, it was all a danger that made my heart ache for them, and for us all. And yet it come from their same longing for fun, for joy--and where was they to get it?
"'Oh, ladies!' I says, out of the fulness of the lump in my throat, 'if only we had some place to invite 'em to!'
"'They wouldn't come if we had,' says Mis' Sykes, final.
"'Not come!' I says. 'With candy making and pictures and music and mebbe dancin'? Not come!'
"'Dancin'!' says Mis' Toplady, low. 'Oh, Calliope, I donno as I'd go that far.'
"'We've went farther than that long ago,' I says, reckless. 'We've went so far that the dangers of dancin' would be safe beside the dangers of what is.'
"'But we ain't responsible for that,' says Mis' Sykes.
"'Ain't we--_ain't we?_' I says, like Mis' Toplady had. 'Mis' Sykes, how much does Silas rent the post-office hall for, a night?'
"'Ten dollars, if he makes something; and five dollars at cost,' she says.
"'That's it,' I says, groaning. 'We never could afford that, even to ask them in once a week. Oh, we'd ought to have some place open every night for them, and us ladies take turns doing the refreshments; but they ain't no place in town that belongs to young folks--'