"You don't mean to say that you are going to keep them, Miss Smith?" "I'm afraid I must. My duty forces me to deliver them to Professor Challis." "But why does this terrible and strapping young lady desire to swipe the draft of this bill?" "Because it contains the evidence of a wicked conspiracy between the Governor of New York, the Mayor of this city, and an abandoned legislature. The women of America ought to know what threatens them before this bill is perfected and introduced. And before they will permit it to be debated and passed they are determined to march on Albany, half a million strong, as did the heroines of Versailles!" She stretched out her white gloved hand with an excited but graceful gesture; he eyed her moodily, swinging the chenille cat by its fluffy tail. "What do they suspect is in that bill?" he said at last. "We are not yet perfectly sure. We believe it is an insidious attempt to sow dissension in the ranks of our sex--a bill cunningly devised to create jealousy and unworthy distrust among us--an ingenious and inhuman conspiracy to disorganize the National Federation of Free and Independent Women." "Nonsense," he said. "The bill, when perfected, is designed to give you what you want." "What!" "Certainly; votes for women." "On what terms?" she asked, incredulously. "Terms? Oh, no particular terms. I wouldn't call them 'terms,'" he said craftily; "that sounds like masculine dictation." "It certainly does." "Of course. There are no terms in it. It's a--a sort of a civil service idea--a kind of a qualification for the franchise----" "Oh!" "Yes," he continued pleasantly, "it a--er--suggests that a vote be accorded to any woman who, in competition with others of that election district, passes the examinations----" "_What_ examinations?" He twirled the cat carelessly. "Oh, the examination papers are on various subjects. One is chemistry." "Chemistry?" "Yes--that part of organic chemistry which includes the scientific preparation of--er--food." Her eyes flashed; he twirled the cat absently. "Yes," he said, "chemistry is one of the subjects. Physics is another--physical phenomena." "What kind?" "Oh, the--the proposition that nature abhors a vacuum. You're to prove it--you're given a certain area--say a bed-room full of dust. Then you apply to it----" "I see," she said; "you mean we apply to it a vacuum cleaner, don't you?" "Or," he admitted courteously, "you may solve it through the science of dynamics----" "Of course--using a broom." Her eyes were beautiful but frosty. "Do you know," he said, as pleasantly as he dared, "that you, for instance, would be sure to pass." "Because I'm intelligent enough to comprehend the subtleties of this--bill?" "Exactly." He swung the cat in a circle. "Thank you. And what else do these examination papers contain?"