Little did poor Doctor Walker imagine as he sat athis breakfast-table next morning that the two sweet girlswho sat on either side of him were deep in a conspiracy,and that he, munching innocently at his muffins, was thevictim against whom their wiles were planned. Patientlythey waited until at last their opening came.

"It is a beautiful day," he remarked. "It will dofor Mrs. Westmacott. She was thinking of having a spinupon the tricycle."

"Then we must call early. We both intended to seeher after breakfast."

"Oh, indeed!" The Doctor looked pleased.

"You know, pa," said Ida, "it seems to us that wereally have a very great advantage in having Mrs.Westmacott living so near."

"Why so, dear?"

"Well, because she is so advanced, you know. If weonly study her ways we may advance ourselves also."

"I think I have heard you say, papa," Clara remarked,"that she is the type of the woman of the future."

"I am very pleased to hear you speak so sensibly, mydears. I certainly think that she is a woman whom youmay very well take as your model. The more intimate youare with her the better pleased I shall be."

"Then that is settled," said Clara demurely, and thetalk drifted to other matters.

All the morning the two girls sat extracting fromMrs. Westmacott her most extreme view as to the duty ofthe one sex and the tyranny of the other. Absoluteequality, even in details, was her ideal. Enough of theparrot cry of unwomanly and unmaidenly. It had beeninvented by man to scare woman away when she poached toonearly upon his precious preserves. Every woman shouldbe independent. Every woman should learn a trade. Itwas their duty to push in where they were leastwelcome. Then they were martyrs to the cause, andpioneers to their weaker sisters. Why should thewash-tub, the needle, and the housekeeper's book beeternally theirs? Might they not reach higher, to theconsulting-room, to the bench, and even to the pulpit? Mrs. Westmacott sacrificed her tricycle ride in hereagerness over her pet subject, and her two fairdisciples drank in every word, and noted every suggestionfor future use. That afternoon they went shopping inLondon, and before evening strange packages began to behanded in at the Doctor's door. The plot was ripe forexecution, and one of the conspirators was merry andjubilant, while the other was very nervous and troubled.

When the Doctor came down to the dining-room nextmorning, he was surprised to find that his daughters hadalready been up some time. Ida was installed at one endof the table with a spirit-lamp, a curved glass flask,and several bottles in front of her. The contents ofthe flask were boiling furiously, while a villainoussmell filled the room. Clara lounged in an arm-chairwith her feet upon a second one, a blue-covered book inher hand, and a huge map of the British Islands spreadacross her lap. "Hullo!" cried the Doctor, blinking andsniffing, "where's the breakfast?"

"Oh, didn't you order it?" asked Ida.

"I! No; why should I?" He rang the bell. "Why haveyou not laid the breakfast, Jane?"

"If you please, sir, Miss Ida was a workin' at thetable."

"Oh, of course, Jane," said the young lady calmly. "I am so sorry. I shall be ready to move in a fewminutes."

"But what on earth are you doing, Ida?" asked theDoctor. "The smell is most offensive. And, goodgracious, look at the mess which you have made upon thecloth! Why, you have burned a hole right through."

"Oh, that is the acid," Ida answered contentedly. "Mrs. Westmacott said that it would burn holes."

"You might have taken her word for it withouttrying," said her father dryly.

"But look here, pa! See what the book says: `Thescientific mind takes nothing upon trust. Prove allthings!' I have proved that."

"You certainly have. Well, until breakfast is readyI'll glance over the Times. Have you seen it?"

"The Times? Oh, dear me, this is it which I haveunder my spirit-lamp. I am afraid there is some acidupon that too, and it is rather damp and torn. Here itis."

The Doctor took the bedraggled paper with a ruefulface. "Everything seems to be wrong to-day," heremarked. "What is this sudden enthusiasm aboutchemistry, Ida?"

"Oh, I am trying to live up to Mrs. Westmacott'steaching."

"Quite right! quite right!" said he, though perhapswith less heartiness than he had shown the day before. "Ah, here is breakfast at last!"

But nothing was comfortable that morning. There wereeggs without egg-spoons, toast which was leathery frombeing kept, dried-up rashers, and grounds in the coffee. Above all, there was that dreadful smell which pervadedeverything and gave a horrible twang to every mouthful.

"I don't wish to put a damper upon your studies,Ida," said the Doctor, as he pushed back his chair. "ButI do think it would be better if you did your chemicalexperiments a little later in the day."

"But Mrs. Westmacott says that women should riseearly, and do their work before breakfast."

"Then they should choose some other room besides thebreakfast-room." The Doctor was becoming just a littleruffled. A turn in the open air would soothe him, hethought. "Where are my boots?" he asked.

But they were not in their accustomed corner by hischair. Up and down he searched, while the three servantstook up the quest, stooping and peeping underbook-cases and drawers. Ida had returned to her studies,and Clara to her blue-covered volume, sitting absorbedand disinterested amid the bustle and the racket. Atlast a general buzz of congratulation announced that thecook had discovered the boots hung up among the hats inthe hall. The Doctor, very red and flustered, drew themon, and stamped off to join the Admiral in his morningwalk.

As the door slammed Ida burst into a shout oflaughter. "You see, Clara," she cried, "the charm worksalready. He has gone to number one instead of to numberthree. Oh, we shall win a great victory. You've beenvery good, dear; I could see that you were on thorns tohelp him when he was looking for his boots."

"Poor papa! It is so cruel. And yet what are we todo?"

"Oh, he will enjoy being comfortable all the more ifwe give him a little discomfort now. What horriblework this chemistry is! Look at my frock! It is ruined. And this dreadful smell!" She threw open the window, andthrust her little golden-curled head out of it. CharlesWestmacott was hoeing at the other side of the gardenfence.

"Good morning, sir," said Ida.

"Good morning!" The big man leaned upon his hoe andlooked up at her.

"Have you any cigarettes, Charles?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Throw me up two."

"Here is my case. Can you catch!"

A seal-skin case came with a soft thud on to thefloor. Ida opened it. It was full.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Egyptians."

"What are some other brands?"

"Oh, Richmond Gems, and Turkish, and Cambridge. Butwhy?"

"Never mind!" She nodded to him and closed thewindow. "We must remember all those, Clara," said she. "We must learn to talk about such things. Mrs.Westmacott knows all about the brands of cigarettes. Hasyour rum come?"

"Yes, dear. It is here."

"And I have my stout. Come along up to my room now. This smell is too abominable. But we must be ready forhim when he comes back. If we sit at the window we shallsee him coming down the road."

The fresh morning air, and the genial company of theAdmiral had caused the Doctor to forget his troubles, andhe came back about midday in an excellent humor. As heopened the hall door the vile smell of chemicals whichhad spoilt his breakfast met him with a redoubledvirulence. He threw open the hall window, entered thedining-room, and stood aghast at the sight which met hiseyes.

Ida was still sitting among her bottles, with a litcigarette in her left hand and a glass of stout on thetable beside her. Clara, with another cigarette, waslounging in the easy chair with several maps spread outupon the floor around. Her feet were stuck up on thecoal scuttle, and she had a tumblerful of somereddish-brown composition on the smoking table close ather elbow. The Doctor gazed from one to the other ofthem through the thin grey haze of smoke, but his eyesrested finally in a settled stare of astonishment uponhis elder and more serious daughter.

"Clara!" he gasped, "I could not have believed it!"

"What is it, papa?"

"You are smoking!"

"Trying to, papa. I find it a little difficult, forI have not been used to it."

"But why, in the name of goodness--"

"Mrs. Westmacott recommends it."

"Oh, a lady of mature years may do many things whicha young girl must avoid."

"Oh, no," cried Ida, "Mrs. Westmacott says that thereshould be one law for all. Have a cigarette, pa?"

"No, thank you. I never smoke in the morning."

"No? Perhaps you don't care for the brand. Whatare these, Clara?"

"Egyptians."

"Ah, we must have some Richmond Gems or Turkish. Iwish, pa, when you go into town, you would get me someTurkish."

"I will do nothing of the kind. I do not at allthink that it is a fitting habit for young ladies. I donot agree with Mrs. Westmacott upon the point."

"Really, pa! It was you who advised us to imitateher."

"But with discrimination. What is it that you aredrinking, Clara?"

"Rum, papa."

"Rum? In the morning?" He sat down and rubbed hiseyes as one who tries to shake off some evil dream. "Didyou say rum?"

"Yes, pa. They all drink it in the profession whichI am going to take up."

"Profession, Clara?"

"Mrs. Westmacott says that every woman should followa calling, and that we ought to choose those which womenhave always avoided."

"Quite so."

"Well, I am going to act upon her advice. I am goingto be a pilot."

"My dear Clara! A pilot! This is too much."

"This is a beautiful book, papa. `The Lights,Beacons, Buoys, Channels, and Landmarks of GreatBritain.' Here is another, `The Master Mariner'sHandbook.' You can't imagine how interesting it is."

"You are joking, Clara. You must be joking!"

"Not at all, pa. You can't think what a lot I havelearned already. I'm to carry a green light to starboardand a red to port, with a white light at the mast-head,and a flare-up every fifteen minutes."

"Oh, won't it look pretty at night!" cried hersister.

"And I know the fog-signals. One blast means that aship steers to starboard, two to port, three astern, fourthat it is unmanageable. But this man asks such dreadfulquestions at the end of each chapter. Listen to this: `You see a red light. The ship is on the port tack andthe wind at north; what course is that ship steering toa point?'"

The Doctor rose with a gesture of despair. "I can'timagine what has come over you both," said he.

"My dear papa, we are trying hard to live up to Mrs.Westmacott's standard."

"Well, I must say that I do not admire the result. Your chemistry, Ida, may perhaps do no harm; but yourscheme, Clara, is out of the question. How a girl ofyour sense could ever entertain such a notion is morethan I can imagine. But I must absolutely forbid you togo further with it."

"But, pa," asked Ida, with an air of innocentinquiry in her big blue eyes, "what are we to do whenyour commands and Mrs. Westmacott's advice are opposed? You told us to obey her. She says that when women try tothrow off their shackles, their fathers, brothers andhusbands are the very first to try to rivet them onagain, and that in such a matter no man has anyauthority."

"Does Mrs. Westmacott teach you that I am not thehead of my own house?" The Doctor flushed, and hisgrizzled hair bristled in his anger.

"Certainly. She says that all heads of houses arerelics of the dark ages."

The Doctor muttered something and stamped his footupon the carpet. Then without a word he passed out intothe garden and his daughters could see him stridingfuriously up and down, cutting off the heads of theflowers with a switch.

"Oh, you darling! You played your part sosplendidly!" cried Ida.

"But how cruel it is! When I saw the sorrow andsurprise in his eyes I very nearly put my arms about himand told him all. Don't you think we have done enough?"

"No, no, no. Not nearly enough. You must not turnweak now, Clara. It is so funny that I should be leadingyou. It is quite a new experience. But I know I amright. If we go an as we are doing, we shall be ableto say all our lives that we have saved him. And if wedon't, oh, Clara, we should never forgive ourselves."