"Pretty nearly. She's gone in for dress reform now, you know, a kind of middy blouse made out of a striped portiere with a kilted skirt of the same material and a Scotch cap. She doesn't look so bad in it. Your Aunt Beulah presents a peculiar phenomenon these days. She's growing better-looking and behaving worse every day of her life." "Behaving worse?" "She's theory ridden and fad bitten. She'll come to a bad end if something doesn't stop her." "Do you mean--stop her working for suffrage? I'm a suffragist, Uncle David." "And quite right to remind me of it before I began slamming the cause. No, I don't mean suffrage. I believe in suffrage myself. I mean the way she's going after it. There are healthy ways of insisting on your rights and unhealthy ways. Beulah's getting further and further off key, that's all. Here we are at home, daughter. Your poor old cooperative father welcomes you to the associated hearthstone." "This front entrance looks more like my front entrance than any other place does," Eleanor said. "Oh! I'm so glad to be here. George, how is the baby?" she asked the black elevator man, who beamed delightedly upon her. "Gosh! I didn't know he had one," David chuckled. "It takes a woman--" Jimmie appeared in the evening, laden with violets and a five pound box of the chocolates most in favor in the politest circles at the moment. David whistled when he saw them. "What's devouring you, papa?" Jimmie asked him. "Don't I always place tributes at the feet of the offspring?" "Mirror candy and street corner violets, yes," David said. "It's only the labels that surprised me." "She knows the difference, now," Jimmie answered, "what would you?" The night before her return to school it was decreed that she should go to bed early. She had spent two busy days of shopping and "seeing the family." She had her hours discussing her future with Peter, long visits and talks with Margaret and Gertrude, and a cup of tea at suffrage headquarters with Beulah, as well as long sessions in the shops accompanied by Mademoiselle, who made her home now permanently with David. She sat before the fire drowsily constructing pyramids out of the embers and David stood with one arm on the mantel, smoking his after-dinner cigar, and watching her. "Is it to be college, Eleanor?" he asked her presently. "I can't seem to make up my mind, Uncle David." "Don't you like the idea?" "Yes, I'd love it,--if--" "If what, daughter?" "If I thought I could spare the time." "The time? Elucidate." "I'm going to earn my own living, you know." "I didn't know." "I am. I've got to--in order to--to feel right about things." "Don't you like the style of living to which your cooperative parents have accustomed you?" "I love everything you've ever done for me, but I can't go on letting you do things for me forever." "Why not?" "I don't know why not exactly. It doesn't seem--right, that's all."