“You talk of my afflicting the child, and then make a helpless guy like that of her!” answered the Doctor, pointing to the little fashion plate that was scuttling out of sight as fast as it could go.

He closed the door with a shrug, but before anyone could speak, his quick eye fell upon an object which caused him to frown, and demand in an indignant tone—

“After all I have said, were you really going to tempt my girl with those abominable things?”

“I thought we put them away when she wouldn’t wear them,” murmured Mrs. Clara, whisking a little pair of corsets out of sight with guilty haste. “I only brought them to try, for Rose is growing stout, and will have no figure if it is not attended to soon,” she added, with an air of calm conviction that roused the Doctor still more, for this was one of his especial abominations.

“Growing stout! Yes, thank Heaven, she is, and shall continue to do it, for Nature knows how to mould a woman better than any corset-maker, and I won’t have her interfered with. My dear Clara, have you lost your senses that you can for a moment dream of putting a growing girl into an instrument of torture like this?” and with a sudden gesture he plucked forth the offending corsets from under the sofa cushion, and held them out with the expression one would wear on beholding the thumbscrews or the rack of ancient times.

“Don’t be absurd, Alec. There is no torture about it, for tight lacing is out of fashion, and we have nice, sensible things nowadays. Everyone wears them; even babies have stiffened waists to support their weak little backs,” began Mrs. Clara, rushing to the defence of the pet delusion of most women.

“I know it, and so the poor little souls have weak backs all their days, as their mothers had before them. It is vain to argue the matter, and I won’t try, but I wish to state, once for all, that if I ever see a pair of corsets near Rose, I’ll put them in the fire, and you may send the bill to me.”

As he spoke the corsets were on their way to destruction, but Mrs. Jessie caught his arm, exclaiming merrily, “Don’t burn them, for mercy sake, Alec; they are full of whalebones, and will make a dreadful odour. Give them to me. I’ll see that they do no harm.”

“Whalebones, indeed! A regular fence of them, and metal gate-posts in front. As if our own bones were not enough, if we’d give them a chance to do their duty,” growled the Doctor, yielding up the bone of contention with a last shake of contempt. Then his face cleared suddenly, and he held up his finger, saying, with a smile, “Hear those girls laugh; cramped lungs could not make hearty music like that.”

Peals of laughter issued from Rose’s room, and smiles involuntarily touched the lips of those who listened to the happy sound.

“Some new prank of yours, Alec?” asked Aunt Plenty, indulgently, for she had come to believe in most of her nephew’s odd notions, because they seemed to work so well.

“Yes, ma’am, my last, and I hope you will like it. I discovered what Clara was at, and got my rival suit ready for to-day. I’m not going to ‘afflict’ Rose, but let her choose, and if I’m not entirely mistaken, she will like my rig best. While we wait I’ll explain, and then you will appreciate the general effect better. I got hold of this little book, and was struck with its good sense and good taste, for it suggests a way to clothe women both healthfully and handsomely, and that is a great point. It begins at the foundations, as you will see if you will look at these pictures, and I should think women would rejoice at this lightening of their burdens.”

As he spoke, the Doctor laid the book before Aunt Plenty, who obediently brought her spectacles to bear upon the illustrations, and after a long look exclaimed, with a scandalised face—