Chapter 9

A FAMILY PLOT.

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

"It is a beautiful day," he remarked. "It will do
for Mrs. Westmacott. She was thinking of having a spin
upon the tricycle."

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

"Oh, indeed!" The Doctor looked pleased.

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

"Why so, dear?"

"Well, because she is so advanced, you know. If we
only 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, my
dears. I certainly think that she is a woman whom you
may very well take as your model. The more intimate you
are with her the better pleased I shall be."

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

All the morning the two girls sat extracting from
Mrs. Westmacott her most extreme view as to the duty of
the one sex and the tyranny of the other. Absolute
equality, even in details, was her ideal. Enough of the
parrot cry of unwomanly and unmaidenly. It had been
invented by man to scare woman away when she poached too
nearly upon his precious preserves. Every woman should
be independent. Every woman should learn a trade. It
was their duty to push in where they were least
welcome. Then they were martyrs to the cause, and
pioneers to their weaker sisters. Why should the
wash-tub, the needle, and the housekeeper's book be
eternally theirs? Might they not reach higher, to the
consulting-room, to the bench, and even to the pulpit?
Mrs. Westmacott sacrificed her tricycle ride in her
eagerness over her pet subject, and her two fair
disciples drank in every word, and noted every suggestion
for future use. That afternoon they went shopping in
London, and before evening strange packages began to be
handed in at the Doctor's door. The plot was ripe for
execution, and one of the conspirators was merry and
jubilant, while the other was very nervous and troubled.

When the Doctor came down to the dining-room next
morning, he was surprised to find that his daughters had
already been up some time. Ida was installed at one end
of the table with a spirit-lamp, a curved glass flask,
and several