taken to practicing on that dreadful
instrument in the intervals of her chemistry. And Clara is quite as bad.
I declare it is getting quite unendurable."

"Ah, Doctor, Doctor!" she cried, shaking her forefinger, with a gleam
of her white teeth. "You must live up to your principles--you must give
your daughters the same liberty as you advocate for other women."

"Liberty, madam, certainly! But this approaches to license."

"The same law for all, my friend." She tapped him reprovingly on the arm
with her sunshade. "When you were twenty your father did not, I presume,
object to your learning chemistry or playing a musical instrument. You
would have thought it tyranny if he had."

"But there is such a sudden change in them both."

"Yes, I have noticed that they have been very enthusiastic lately in the
cause of liberty. Of all my disciples I think that they promise to be
the most devoted and consistent, which is the more natural since their
father is one of our most trusted champions."

The Doctor gave a twitch of impatience. "I seem to have lost all
authority," he cried.

"No, no, my dear friend. They are a little exuberant at having broken
the trammels of custom. That is all."

"You cannot think what I have had to put up with, madam. It has been a
dreadful experience. Last night, after I had extinguished the candle
in my bedroom, I placed my foot upon something smooth and hard, which
scuttled from under me. Imagine my horror! I lit the gas, and came upon
a well-grown tortoise which Clara has thought fit to introduce into the
house. I call it a filthy custom to have such pets."

Mrs. Westmacott dropped him a little courtesy. "Thank you, sir," said
she. "That is a nice little side hit at my poor Eliza."

"I give you my word that I had forgotten about her," cried the Doctor,
flushing. "One such pet may no doubt be endured, but two are more than I
can bear. Ida has a monkey which lives on the curtain rod. It is a most
dreadful creature. It will remain absolutely motionless until it sees
that you have forgotten its presence, and then it will suddenly bound
from picture to picture all round the walls, and end by swinging down
on the bell-rope and jumping on to the top of your head. At breakfast
it stole a poached egg and daubed it all over the door handle. Ida calls
these outrages amusing tricks."

"Oh, all will come right," said the widow reassuringly.

"And Clara is as bad, Clara who used to be so good and sweet