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.