"Why any more so than for me to judge you by my own impressions? My method is more judicial. As in a court of law, I hear both sides of a case, and do not permit myself to be biased by personal charms."

"You are a clever pleader. I feel tempted to throw myself on the mercy of the court and receive its verdict."

"Before the verdict can be given the court must be cleared of reporters; as that seems impracticable, sentence must be deferred."

"Is it then so horrible? If so, I shall feel tempted to 'jump bail'."

"I think you have nothing to fear; but how did you acquire such a knowledge of the law?"

"At one time I had a pa.s.sion for reading accounts of trials, and I even went with a party to see the Anarchists when they were on trial."

"What a morbid curiosity!"

"Another impertinence."

"If it is so considered, I humbly ask pardon, and meanwhile I move that the court take a recess which shall be employed in instructing me in the intricacies of Chicago society."

"I see you want more material with which to construct characters; if so, we had far better listen to the opera."

"O, bother the opera! It is vulgar to listen to an opera; it shows a lack of conversational powers. Don't you think so?"

"One can easily see that you came from New York, and, like all New York men, I suppose you expect to be pampered."

"Of course I expect it, so please tell me about those people in the opposite boxes. You need not fear to speak the truth, as I am an entire stranger."

"If I do, as a friend I shall expect you to let my opinions go no further."

"_Cela va sans dire._"

"You must first understand, then, that every man here has an employment.

We have absolutely no 'unemployed rich'."

"Idleness must be at a premium."

"On the contrary it is tabooed. However, though we are all in trade we have distinctions as intricate as the most ancient aristocracy."

"How so?"

"In the peculiar meshes from which society is woven. For example: a wholesale dry-goods merchant is an aristocrat, a retailer a plebeian; a hotel keeper may be a lord, a restaurant keeper a commoner; a car builder is a prince, a carriage builder a burgher; a brewer may be a count, a beer seller a churl; and so on, although even if a member of a certain trade is in society, his _confreres_ may be without the pale."

"Much the same as in New York, only there hotels and dry goods are commoners, while tobacco and skins are lords."

"Yes, but at least society is older there. The skins have been buried for a generation or two."

"In some cases, yes, but in others they are still uncured. I am a working man myself, and I must defend my cla.s.s."

"But surely you have respect for established inst.i.tutions."

"Yes, but not for dead ancestors. Suppose I search through the dusty archives of the Herald's College for a drop of Norman blood; I find that it was spilt on Saxon land by some hireling freebooter, or landgrabber, who followed at the heels of a conscienceless adventurer."

"You are republican enough to please the taste of my friend, Miss Moreland."

"I fear you misunderstand me. I am not patriotic, or republican, or anything else, for that matter."

"Except the incarnation of contrariety."

"I hate polemics, so I will cry _touche_ as one does in fencing after a thrust, and end the contest."

"You mean you would rather thrust than parry. You men are all alike. You told the truth when you expressed a fondness for being pampered, and, as it is the duty of our s.e.x to be compliant, I await your pleasure."

"If I am to be so indulged, I confess to feeling a craving to hear the promised lecture about those people across the way."

"I would willingly comply but that falling curtain says it must again be deferred. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to give you an object lesson, so if you will come and see me to-morrow about five, I will take you to a tea where you may meet them all and judge for yourself."

"I see you mean to prevent my favorite method of character study. I fear you will succeed, as the enticing preventive you suggest cannot possibly fail to be effectual. I willingly submit to your cure and will come to you at the appointed hour."

The fall of the act drop was followed by a confused fluttering of dresses and hum of voices; people stretched and rose, talked, or wandered toward the foyer, while hundreds of gla.s.ses were leveled at the boxes, and every one of mark or notoriety was scrutinized by hundreds of eyes and criticised by hundreds of tongues. Society was there paraded in two rows of little pens, labeled and ticketed at so many millions per head, to be gazed upon by the curious and envious of that great throng.

Society was the operatic side-show, and society paid dearly for the privilege of being seen.

"Do you like to be gazed at by a crowd, Mr. Grahame?" said Florence, after a momentary silence.

"Yes, I think I do," he replied. "It makes one feel so superior to be up above, looking down on the 'madding crowd'."

"Do you think so? I always feel like a caged animal at a menagerie, where each one who pays the admission fee can gratify the curiosity he has about me, and poke me with his umbrella if he does not like my looks."

"How absurd; but I understand you are democratic in your feelings and object to cla.s.s distinctions."

"Not in the least; on the contrary I believe in them. Nature herself has decreed that no two creatures can be equal. What I object to are inflated distinctions which rest on no foundation, and collapse completely when p.r.i.c.ked by sound opinion."

"Miss Moreland believes in an aristocracy of merit," interposed Harold Wainwright.

"Yes," replied Florence, "but where is it to be found?"

"Not in a republic," retorted Duncan. "A democracy is a breeding ground of plutocrats."

"Perhaps, when its Government discourages every intellectual pursuit,"

replied Wainwright. He felt strongly the ungratefulness of republics, as his father had been a Federal judge on a miserly salary, with no pension after years of faithful service.

"I quite agree with you, Harold," replied Florence, "and I only wish I were a man."

"Why?" interposed Mrs. Sanderson, who had just finished interchanging polite plat.i.tudes with Walter Sedger.

"So that I might express my views about the evils of our political system."

"And be called by that expressive word which is not in the dictionary, 'a crank'," said Duncan ironically. "That is the reward of a reformer."

"John Bright and Wendell Phillips were both 'cranks' in their day," was the reply, "but I would not object to their reputation. By the way, here comes a 'crank' whom I almost love," she added, as a stout, kindly faced, elderly man, whose features wore the sweet expression of earnest and well guided intelligence, approached the box.

"Who is he?" asked Duncan, following her eyes.