"I don't wish to put a damper upon your studies, Ida," said the Doctor,
as he pushed back his chair. "But I do think it would be better if you
did your chemical experiments a little later in the day."
"But Mrs. Westmacott says that women should rise early, and do their
work before breakfast."
"Then they should choose some other room besides the breakfast-room."
The Doctor was becoming just a little ruffled. A turn in the open air
would soothe him, he thought. "Where are my boots?" he asked.
But they were not in their accustomed corner by his chair. Up and down
he searched, while the three servants took up the quest, stooping and
peeping under book-cases and drawers. Ida had returned to her studies,
and Clara to her blue-covered volume, sitting absorbed and disinterested
amid the bustle and the racket. At last a general buzz of congratulation
announced that the cook had discovered the boots hung up among the
hats in the hall. The Doctor, very red and flustered, drew them on, and
stamped off to join the Admiral in his morning walk.
As the door slammed Ida burst into a shout of laughter. "You see,
Clara," she cried, "the charm works already. He has gone to number one
instead of to number three. Oh, we shall win a great victory. You've
been very good, dear; I could see that you were on thorns to help him
when he was looking for his boots."
"Poor papa! It is so cruel. And yet what are we to do?"
"Oh, he will enjoy being comfortable all the more if we give him a
little discomfort now. What horrible work this chemistry is! Look at
my frock! It is ruined. And this dreadful smell!" She threw open the
window, and thrust her little golden-curled head out of it. Charles
Westmacott was hoeing at the other side of the garden fence.
"Good morning, sir," said Ida.
"Good morning!" The big man leaned upon his hoe and looked up at her.
"Have you any cigarettes, Charles?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Throw me up two."
"Here is my case. Can you catch!"
A seal-skin case came with a soft thud on to the floor. Ida opened it.
It was full.
"What are these?" she asked.
"Egyptians."
"What are some other brands?"
"Oh, Richmond Gems, and Turkish, and Cambridge. But why?"
"Never mind!" She nodded to him and closed the window. "We must remember
all those, Clara," said she. "We must learn to talk about such things.
Mrs. Westmacott knows all about the brands of cigarettes. Has your rum
come?"