When Audrey Knuth fiddles, people dance.

They danced when she played at pubs on previous St. Patrick's Days. They danced when she was in an Irish punk band. And this Saturday night, they'll be dancing when she fiddles with Whiskey Starship at the contra dance.

The what dance?

No, it's not some form of Nicaraguan rebel warfare. Nor is this the samba, the rumba and the foxtrot that's sweeping the nation, a la "Dancing With the Stars." But contra dancing is drawing a crowd in Honolulu, though smaller than in its heyday.

The 18-year-old Knuth, a senior at 'Iolani School, describes contra dancing as Irish music in a New England style.

"When settlers came over, they brought it with them," said Knuth, whose father is a folk musician. "It's a mixture of bluegrass, Irish and folk — all of which I love, so it works out quite nicely."

It might look like square dancing, but "I'd hate to compare it to square dancing because that sounds so hokey."

What would she compare it to? "It's like line dancing,' " she said.

The several dozen men and women who lined up on their respective sides for the most recent contra dance at the Atherton YMCA didn't seem too concerned about how they looked as they swung around the room. Many women twirled in long, flowy circle skirts; both women and men stepped lightly in tie-up dancing shoes.

Sometimes women outnumber men, so women pair up; the one dancing the man's part dons a tie. If it were to happen the other way, the man dancing the woman's part would put on a necklace, explained Katalina McGlone.

McGlone attends the contra dances regularly. "It's my form of exercise," she said.

While it's mostly a middle-aged pursuit here — "Right now, the ages of the dancers range from 40 on up, which is horrible," Knuth says, "but on the Mainland, it's younger" — Knuth did manage to talk a pretty blonde friend into joining her. The friend danced several times with Knuth's 15-year-old brother, who seemed quite happy with the arrangement.

"(I don't say to friends) 'Hey, let's go to contra dancing tonight!' " Knuth said. "They're like, 'Uh, no, I don't think so. Isn't that for old people?' People my age are intimidated to go."

But, Knuth adds, the fun is contagious.

Twelve-year-old Stephanie Hudgins certainly didn't seem intimidated. She was here at the behest of her mom's boyfriend, Scott LaChance.

"Yeah, it's fun," Hudgins said with only a hint of hesitancy. She glanced at her mom, Ann Bell, and LaChance, who was dancing so vigorously that his polo shirt was visibly clinging to him.

And it is fun, do-si-do-ing and swinging your partner round and round. When newcomers like Bell and LaChance clump up in the middle because they've missed the caller's directions, it just adds to the giggles.

As Bell and LaChance came off the floor during a break, a woman passed them, lifting up the neck of her gold-colored shawl to blow under her shirt. The couple, too, were beaded with perspiration, but they smiled widely. It was Bell's first time contra dancing in decades.

LaChance said with a half-smile that it was his first time, but one suspects he's done this before.

"When I met Ann, I found somebody who could get embarrassed with me," LaChance said, beaming down on her.

During it all, Knuth plays on, fiddling fingers flying. At times, she sounds like an entire string ensemble. At others, she's more than matched by the folks on wind, mandolin and mandocello as well as keyboards.

She plays in the Honolulu Youth Symphony and just finished auditioning for the Berklee College of Music.

"We're hoping she doesn't get into any Mainland colleges," joked Robert Bley-Vroman, the keyboardist who also serves as caller at contra dances at Kapi'olani Community College. "I'm telling them tales of her dissolute life."

Knuth is known to spontaneously combust into fiddling, sometimes between dances, sometimes just as one finishes. This night is no different. As a waltz ended, she launched into a tune. Even though dancers were wiping their necks as they headed to the chairs lining the walls, many let out a "whoop!" and returned to the floor, singularly and some in pairs.

Knuth played on, enraptured with her instrument.