t, silken, fringed shawl about
her and immediately one thought of a certain vivid, brilliant portrait
of a hoop-skirted dancer--"but don't ask me to sit down. I'd rebound
like a toy balloon. I've got to convince you of this thing. I'll have
to do it standing."

Buck sank into his chair and dabbed at his forehead with his
handkerchief.

"You'll never convince me, sitting or standing. Emma, I know I fought
the knickerbocker when you originated it, and I know that it turned out
to be a magnificent success. But this is different. The knicker was
practical; this thing's absurd--it's impossible! This is an age of
activity. In Civil War days women minced daintily along when they
walked at all. They stitched on samplers by way of diversion."

"What has all that to do with it?" inquired Emma sweetly.

"Everything. Use a little logic."

"Logic! In a discussion about women's dress! T. A., I'm surprised."

"But, Emma, be reasonable. Good Lord! You're usually clear-sighted
enough. Our mode of living has changed in the last fifty years--our
methods of transit, our pastimes, customs, everything. Imagine a woman
trying to climb a Fifth Avenue 'bus in one of those things. Fancy her
in a hot set of tennis. Women use street-cars, automobiles, airships.
Can you see a subway train full of hoop-skirted clerks, stenographers,
and models? Street-car steps aren't built for it. Office-building
elevators can't stand for it. Six-room apartments won't accommodate
'em. They're fantastic, wild, improbable. You're wrong, Emma--all
wrong!"

She had listened patiently enough, never once attempting to interrupt.
But on her lips was the maddening half-smile of one whose rebuttal is
ready. Now she perched for a moment at the extreme edge of the arm of
a chair. Her skirt subsided decorously. Buck noticed that, with
surprise, even in the midst of his heated protest.

"T. A., you've probably forgotten, but those are the very arguments
used when the hobble was introduced. Preposterous, people
said--impossible! Women couldn't walk in 'em. Wouldn't, couldn't sit
down in 'em. Women couldn't run, play tennis, skate in them. The car
steps were too high for them. Well, what happened? Women had to walk
in them, and a new gait became the fashion. Women took lessons in how
to sit down in them. They slashed them for tennis and skating. And
street-car companies all over the country lowered the car steps to
accommodate them. Wha