spending your life on the butterfly stunt. Have I
been such a weak worm that it hasn't ever occurred to you that I might
want to try a plain, everyday pair of wings sometime myself?"

Eileen's face was an ugly red, her hands were shaking, her voice was
unnatural, but she controlled her temper.

"Of course," she said, "I have always known that the time would come,
after you finished school and were of a proper age, when you would want
to enter society."

"No, you never knew anything of the kind," said Linda bluntly, "because
I have not the slightest ambition to enter society either now or then.
All I am asking is to enter the high school in a commonly decent,
suitable dress; to enter our dining room as a daughter; to enter a
workroom decently equipped for my convenience. You needn't be surprised
if you hear some changes going on in the billiard room and see some
changes going on in the library. And if I feel that I can muster the
nerve to drive the runabout, it's my car, it's up to me."

"Linda!" wailed Eileen, "how can you think of such a thing? You wouldn't
dare."

"Because I haven't dared till the present is no reason why I should
deprive myself of every single pleasure in life," said Linda. "You
spend your days doing exactly what you please; driving that runabout
for Father was my one soul-satisfying diversion. Why shouldn't I do the
thing I love most, if I can muster the nerve?"

Linda arose, and walking over to a table, picked up a magazine lying
among some small packages that Eileen evidently had placed there on
entering her room.

"Are you subscribing to this?" she asked.

She turned in her hands and leafed through the pages of a most
attractive magazine, Everybody's Home. It was devoted to poetry, good
fiction, and everything concerning home life from beef to biscuits, and
from rugs to roses.

"I saw it on a newsstand," said Eileen. "I was at lunch with some girls
who had a copy and they were talking about some articles by somebody
named something--Meredith, I think it was--Jane Meredith, maybe she's
a Californian, and she is advocating the queer idea that we go back to
nature by trying modern cooking on the food the aborigines ate. If we
find it good then she recommends that we specialize on the growing of
these native vegetables for home use and for export--as a new industry."

"I see," said Linda. "Out-Burbanking Burbank, as it were."

"No, not that," said Eileen. "She is not proposing to evolve