Marie and the talk trust

AM inclined to converse a month or so on the reconstruction of Pointview," said the Honorable Socrates Potter. "Again it's mainly about ladies and mostly for men. The former are not invited, although of course where I am they are always welcome. Right here at the door of the auditorium, as it were, I present my compliments to every lady that comes, and beg her to turn back while there is yet time.

"Of course I shall talk too much, but I am a licensed liar, and the number of my machine is 463,227,643,720, so if I smash a dog here and there, note it down and complain to the editor. I shall not have time to stop for apologies.

"As a matter of fact, this flood of conversation is due entirely to my unselfishness. I am having a good time, and would like to share it with my friends.

"At present we're trying to regulate the supply and demand of luxuries, and with some success. It's led to a large but not unexpected increase in the supply of fun. For a month or so I've been a little overstocked.

"You've heard me speak of Marie Benson?—as pretty a girl as ever led a bulldog or ate a box of chocolates at a sitting. She's joined The Society of Useful Women, and Betsey and I have a special interest in her. She was a charming fish-hook, baited with beauty and wealth and culture and remarkable innocence. She had dangled about on mamma's rod and line for a year or so, hut for some reason the fish wouldn't bite. Well, a few weeks ago I grabbed the rod from the old lady and put on a bait of silence and a sinker and moved to deep water, and began to do business. Let me explain.

"Marie had a failing for which, I am sorry to say, she was in no way distinguished. She talked too much. There are too many American women who talk too much. Marie's mother used to talk about six-thirds of the time. You had to hear it, and then you had to get over it. Cause and effect were of about equal duration. She had a way of spiking the shoes of Time so that every hour felt like a month while it was running over you. You ought to have seen her climb the family tree or the sturdy old chestnut of her own experience and shake down the fruit! Marie had one more tree in her orchard. She had added the spreading peach of a liberal education to the deadly upas of Benson genealogy and the sturdy old chestnut of mamma's experience. The vox Bensonorurm was as familiar as the Congregational bell. The supply of it exceeded the demand, and after every one was loaded and ready to cast oif, the barrels came rolling down the chute. Reggie Van Alstyne, the handsomest and most promising youth in Pointview, had been a candidate for Marie's hand. Suddenly he let go.

"I remonstrated, and he said he needed a rest—that his nerves were shattered by close application. He proposed to seek the silence of the wilderness. 'I long to be where there is no sound,' he remarked.

"Marie called that evening and was a little cast down. She wished me to suggest something for her to do. Said she wanted a mission—a chance to do some good in the world. Thought she'd enjoy being a nurse. I felt sorry for the girl, and suddenly I saw the flicker of a brilliant thought.

"‘Marie.' I said, 'as a member of The Society of Useful Women you are under a serious obligation, and you have taste for missionary work. Well, what's the matter with beginning on Nancy Doolittle? You owe her a duty and ought to have the courage—nay, the kindness—to perform it. Nancy talks too much.'

"‘Well, I should say so,' said Marie. 'Nancy is a scourge—I have often thought of it.'

"‘She's downright wasteful,' I went on. 'She fills every hour with information, and then throws on some more. It keeps coming'. Your seams open, and then it's every hand to the pumps!

"‘Dora Perkins and Rebecca Ford are just as extravagant. They toss out gems of thought and chunks of knowledge as if they were as common as caramels. You should go to these girls and kindly but firmly remind them of this fault. Tell them that too much conversation has created more old maids and grass and parlor widows than any other cause. Give them a little lecture on the old law of supply and demand. Show them that it applies to conversation as well as to cabbages—that if one's talk is too plentiful it becomes very cheap. Suggest that if Methuselah had lived until now and witnessed all the adventures of the human race, he couldn't afford to waste his knowledge. If he talked only half the time nobody would believe him. They'd think he was crazy, and they'd know why, in past ages, everybody had died but him, and they'd wonder how he had managed to survive the invention of gunpowder. These girls have overestimated the value of good-will. There are millions of watered stock in their treasuries, and it isn't worth five cents on the dollar. Marie, you can have a lot of fun. I almost envy you.

"‘Tell these girls that the remedy is simple. They must be careful to regulate the supply to the demand. They could easily raise the price above par by denying now and then that they have any conversation in the treasury.'

"Marie promised to undertake this important work, and I knew that in connection with it she would also get some valuable advice.

"You see, this tendency to extravagant display has sunk in very deep. Our young people really do know a lot, and they want others to know that they know it. They are plumed with culture. They have repaired and trimmed and polished their simple ancestors and introduced them to the swelled set.

"Well, things began to mend. Betsey and I went to dine with the Bensons one evening, and Marie was as quiet as a lamb. She answered modestly when we spoke to her. She told no stories; her jeweled crown of culture was not in sight; she listened with notable success, and delighted us with well-managed and illuminating silence. Neither she nor her mother nor Mrs. Bryson ventured to interrupt the talk of a noted professor who dined with us. Marie was charming.

"After dinner she led me into the library, where we sat down together.

"She seemed a little embarrassed, and presently said with a laugh, 'I had a talk with those girls, as you suggested.'

"‘I What did they say?' I asked.

"‘What didn't they say!' she exclaimed. 'They flew at me like wildcats. They tore me to pieces—said I was the most dreaded talker in Pointview—that I had talked a steady stream ever since I was born—that nobody had a chance to get in a word with me—that I had made all the boys sick who ever came to see me. What do you think of that?'

"‘It's a gross exaggeration!' I said.

"‘Well, I thought it over, and made up my mind they were right,' she went on. 'We kissed and made up and organized the Listeners' Circle, and mamma and Mrs. Bryson and Mrs. Doolittle have joined. Our purpose is to regulate our talk supply very strictly to the demand.'

"‘It's a grand idea!' I exclaimed. 'The Ladies' Talk and Information Trust! Why, it will soon control the entire product of Pointview, and can fix the price. Marie, it's only a matter of time when the conversation of you girls is going to be in the nature of a luxury and as much desired as diamonds. It won't be long before some young fellow will offer his life for one word from you.'

"‘Oh, I'm hopeless! Nobody cares for me—not a soul!' said Marie.

"‘Wait and give 'em a chance,' I answered.

"‘Do you think it's true that I've been such a pestilence?' she asked, as her fingers toyed with the upholstery. 'You know you've been a kind of father to me, and I want you to tell me frankly if I've really made the boys sick.'

"‘Why, my dear child, if I were a young man I'd be kneeling at your feet,' I said, and no wonder, for they were a beautiful pair of feet, and none ever supported a nobler girl. Then I went on: 'Marie, your talk is charming. The demand continues. I feel honored by your confidence. Please go on.'

"‘I believe I've been foolish without knowing it,' she said, her smile beautiful with its sadness.

"‘My clear child, if there were no folly in the world it would be a stupid place, and I for one should want to move,' I said. I Some never discover their own follies, and they are hopeless. You are as wise as you are dear. It's in your power to do a lot of good. Think what you've already accomplished. I wish you would continue to help us to discourage foolish display in America.'

"‘Are there any more chestnuts in the fire?' she asked, with a laugh. 'Not that I'm afraid. I suppose the fire is good for me.'

"‘Marie, I love your fingers too well to burn them unduly,' I said. 'You could safely enough help Mrs. Warburton in the arrangements for the Servants' Ball. We want it to be a swell affair. The whole thing must be done handsomely and in good form. There must be no loudness—no bad breaks. I want you to coach the girls carefully. Believe me, there's a deep purpose behind it all.'

"‘And I'm in sympathy with it,' she answered, feelingly. 'You may count on me.'

"‘I expect that Reggie Van Alstyne will be wanting to marry you soon,' I suggested. Reggie was the petted son of a millionaire who lived near us.

"‘Reggie!' she exclaimed. 'I talked him to death—and out of the notion—long ago, and I'm not sorry. He isn't my kind.'

"‘Reggie's a good fellow,' I insisted.

"‘But he's so dreadfully nice—such a hopeless aristocrat! You've spoiled me for such a man. I want a big, full-blooded, brawny chap who isn't a slave to his coat and trousers. I want a farmer.'

"‘A farmer!' I exclaimed.

"‘Well, the kind of man you've talked so much about—one who could get his hands dirty and be a gentleman. I'm longing for the outdoor life—and the out-door man to live it with me.'

"‘Give Reggie a chance—he may turn out well,' I urged.

"That young man came to see me in a day or two, and said that he thought Marie had improved wonderfully.

"‘I'm really more in love with her than ever,' he exclaimed.

"My new set of Smollett lay on the piano, and he greatly admired it. 'I have read all his novels,' he said, 'and if I had a set like that I should think it a great treasure.'

"‘I shall be glad to give those books to you, but I have two requests to make concerning them,' I said.

"He turned in astonishment.

"‘They can do you no further harm, and my first request is that you do not lend them. My second is that you take them home in my wheelbarrow in daylight with your own hands.'

"He silently demurred.

"‘At last those books have a chance to do some little good in the world, and I don't want them to lose it,' I urged. 'The hands, feet, and legs of the high and low born are slowly being deprived of their rights in this community. Pride is robbing them of their ancient and proper offices. How many of the young men and women of our acquaintance would be seen on the street with a package in their hands, to say nothing of a wheelbarrow? Their souls are above it!' "‘Why should they carry packages and wheelbarrows?' Reggie asked. 'Stores deliver goods these days.'

"‘That's one reason why it costs so much to live. We have to pay for our pride and our indolence and the delivery of the goods. It's all charged in the bill. Some member of the family used to go to market every morning with his basket and carry the goods home with him.'

"‘It would be ridiculous for me to do that,' said Reggie. 'We're able to pay the bills.'

"‘But you're doing a great injustice to those who are not. You make the delivery system a necessary thing, and those who are not able have to help you stand the expense of it—a gross injustice. I want you to help me in this cause of the hand and foot. Your example would be full of inspiration. Excuse me a moment.'

"I went for the wheelbarrow and brought it up to the front door, and he helped me to load the books with a sober countenance. That done, I seized the handles of the barrow.

"‘Come on,' I said. 'I'll do the work—you share the disgrace with me.'

"My gray hairs were too much for him.

"‘No; give me the handles,' he insisted. 'If it won't hurt you, it won't hurt me—that's sure.'

"So, in his silk hat and frock-coat and spats, with a carnation in his buttonhole, he seized the wheelbarrow like a man, and away we went. I steered him up the Main Street, and people began to hail us with laughter from automobiles, and to jest with us on the sidewalk, and Marie came along with two other pretty girls, and the barrow halted in a gale of merriment.

"‘What in the world are you doing?' one of them asked.

"‘It's the remains of the late Mr. Smollett,' I explained. "‘I'm setting an example to the young,' said Reggie, as he mopped his forehead. 'Couldn't help it. I had to do this thing.'

'Great!' Marie exclaimed. 'Simply great! I'm going to get me a wheelbarrow.'

"She would take hold of the handles and try it, and went on half a block in spite of our protests, creating much excitement.

"That was the first rude beginning of The Basket and Wheelbarrow Brigade in Pointview, of which I shall tell you later. And now I shall explain my generosity, and how I came by the Smollett.

"Christmas was approaching, and Betsey said to me one day that she had been guilty of a great extravagance.

"‘I know you will forgive me just this once,' she went on. 'My love for you is so extravagant that I had to keep pace with it. You've simply got to accept something very grand.' "‘I can't think of anything that I need unless it's a new jack-knife,' I said.

"‘Nonsense!' she exclaimed. 'You've got to let me spend some money for you. I've been held down in the expression of my affections as long as I can stand it. I've doubled my charities since we were married as a token of my gratitude, and now I've a right to do something to please myself.'

"‘All right! We'll lift the lid,' I said. 'We can lie about it, I suppose, and cover up our folly.'

"‘Well, of course we don't have to tell what it cost,' said Betsey; 'and, Socrates, you can't expect to reform me in a year. It's taken half a lifetime to acquire my follies.'

"That's one trouble with the whole problem. You can't tear down a structure which has been slowly rising for half a century in a day or in many days.

"Christmas arrived, and Betsey went down-stairs with me and covered my eyes in the hall and led me to the grand piano. Then I was permitted to look, and there was the most gorgeous set of books that my eyes ever beheld—a set of Smollett, in lovely brown calf, decorated with magnificent gold tooling! Yes, I love such things—who doesn't?—and I gave Betsey a great hug, and we sat down with tears in our eyes to look at the pages of vellum and the wonderful etchings which adorned so many of them. They were charming. I knew that the books had cost at least two hundred dollars. Grandpa Smead looked awfully stern in his gold frame on the wall.

"‘Now don't think too badly of me,' she urged. 'Every poor family within twenty miles is eating dinner at my expense this Christmas Day.'

"‘You are the dearest girl in all the I land!' I said. 'There's nobody like you.'

"‘You're so fond of the classics!' said Betsey. 'I knew nothing would please you better. The young man who sold them to me is working his way through Yale. I was glad to help him. He  recommended them highly—said they were so moral and uplifting! He knew that we enjoyed reading at home. We shall have such a good time reading them together, Socrates.'

"This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share her confidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing.

"After a fine dinner, Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down by the fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of the treasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being the least likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough going, and the young woman began to falter.

"‘That will do,' said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my emotions.

"She took the book from the hands of her secretary, and read on in silence for a minute or so.

"‘My land!' she exclaimed, with a look of horror. 'That book would corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.'

"‘Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,' I argued. 'He didn't have a chance to get hardened.'

"Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.

"‘I'll have them stored in the stable,' said she, firmly.

"‘If you don't keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood 'll be in there,' I warned her, knowing that she couldn't help telling her friends of what had happened. "‘That's no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,' said Betsey. 'Poor things! They're not so hardened to trouble! It's my duty to protect you as long as I can, Socrates.'

"I promised to get rid of the books somehow, and persuaded her to let them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then she said:

"‘Socrates, forgive me. I wanted to be so nice to you. I guess it's a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?'

"‘Always when you're in doubt, do nothing,' I suggested.

"‘Oh, I know what I'll do,' she exclaimed, joyfully. 'I'll knit you a pair of socks with my own hands.'

"‘Eureka!' I shouted. 'Those socks shall make footprints on the sands of time.'

"Betsey was horrified when I told her that I had given the Smollett to Reggie Van Alstyne. I was quick to explain:

"‘He had read the books. They can't do him any more harm, and he has promised not to lend them.'

"‘The young people can be trusted to read everything that they ought not to these days,' said she. 'You know I was at Lizzie's party the other night. Ruth Van Alstyne was there, and her brother Reggie with Marie. He's very attentive. Marie was charming, but Ruth exposed all her knowledge and too much of her person.'

"‘She's a little extravagant with both,' I agreed.

"‘She hasn't joined The Listeners' Circle, either—she scorns it,' Betsey went on. 'She asked me if I was familiar with D'Annunzio, and I said no. Then what a look of joy and self-congratulation as she began to enlighten me! Talked for twenty minutes. Reduced us all to the size of bumble-bees! And held us there!'

"‘You should have called to your defense my old friend Dr. Godfrey Vogeldam Guph, diplomat and sociologist,' I said. 'He has a remarkable history. I know that because I composed it myself. For years it has been necessary for me to give so much advice that modesty compelled me to seek the aid of the doctor. He was born about the year 1920—in the modern renaissance. He is the only man that ever lived who knew everything and had all the talents but one. He never told a lie—never but once, and that was on his death-bed. Yes, it was a little late, but still it was in time to save his reputation, and, possibly, even his soul. To a man of his parts the truth had always been good enough, and lying unnecessary. If I had told a lie everybody would have believed it. He was a most unusual person, and likely to excite interest in any community. The doctor could be relied upon to take the center of the stage from any oracle that ever lived. You should briefly trace his career down to his last touching words, which were delivered to a priest and his sister Sophia, who had been reading to him from a book of D'Annunzio. Those words you can safely dwell upon for some minutes.'

"‘At last I have concluded that it is possible to know too much,' he said. 'You will please send for a minister.'

"The minister came and, seeing the book, asked the good man if he had read it.

"‘Alas, my friend,' the doctor exclaimed, 'that it should be necessary for me to tell a lie on my death-bed! I have not read that book.'

"‘Out with the truth, my son,' the minister urged.

"‘And it is this,' he said: 'I have come to an hour when a lie and nothing but a lie can show my sense of shame. I solemnly swear that I have not read it!'

"‘Well, at least you're a noble liar,' said the man of God. 'I absolve you.'

"‘I claim no credit—I am only doing my duty,' said the good doctor, as he breathed his last.

"While Betsey would have nothing to do with him, the doctor has really become an institution here in eastern Connecticut."

The Honorable Socrates Potter laughed as he filled his pipe, and resumed with an attitude of ease and comfort:

"Yes, I regret that the higher education has opened the vats of foreign eroticism, and set them flowing into the souls and over the red lips of many a sweet-faced maiden in America. Certain young men who have been 'finished' abroad, where they filled their souls with Latin looseness, have turned it into fiction and a source of profit.

"Marie came into my office one day, and I said to her, 'Marie, have you read any of these books?' "She looked down, blushing, and said, 'No.'

"I knew that she didn't dare admit it.

"‘A noble lie is better than none—under the circumstances,' I said, and told the story of Dr. Guph.

"‘But never again shall I have to lie about that,' said she.

"‘Good!' was my answer.

"‘Do you think I'm good enough to be recommended to the best young man of your acquaintance? That's what I'd like to know,' said Marie.

"‘I call you a very promising young lady,' said I. 'How is Reggie?'

"‘Splendid! I'm beginning to admire him very much. I met him on his way home last night with a crate of eggs on his shoulder. Now that's like a man—isn't it?'

"‘Marie, you and I can reform this community,' I declared. 'We best people have only to get busy with the basket and the wheelbarrow. Have you a crest?'

"‘No, but mamma is getting one,' said she. 'I'm in love with crests.'

"‘Good!' I exclaimed. 'The other day I suggested to Bridget Maloney, our pretty chambermaid, that she ought to have the Maloney crest on her letterheads.

"‘What's that?' says Bridget.

"‘What's that!' I says, with a look of pity.

"Then I showed her a letter from Mrs. Van Alstyne, with a lion and a griffin cuffing each other black and blue at the top of the sheet.

"‘It's grand!' said she. "‘It's the Van Alstyne crest,'I said. 'It's a proof of respectability. Aren't you as good as they are?'

"‘Every bit!' said she.

"‘That's what I thought. Don't you often feel as if you were better than a good many people you know?'

"‘Sure I do.' "‘Well, that's a sign that you're blue-blooded,'said I. 'Probably you've got a king in your family somewhere. A crest shows that you suspect your ancestors—nothing more than that. It isn't proof, so there's no reason why you shouldn't have it. You ought not to be going around without a crest, as if you were a common servant-girl. Why, every kitchen-maid will be thinking she's as good as you are. You want to be in style. You have money in the bank, and not half the people who have crests are as well able to afford 'em.'

"‘How much do they cost?'

"‘Nothing—at least yours 'll cost nothing. Bridget, I shall be glad to buy one for you.'

"The simple girl thanked me, and I found the Maloney crest for her, and had the plate made and neatly engraved on a hundred sheets of paper.

"Next week the Pointview Advocate will print this item: 'Miss Bridget Maloney, the genial chambermaid of Mrs. Socrates Potter, uses the Maloney crest on her letter-heads. She is said to be a lineal descendant of his Grace Bryan Maloney, one of the early dukes of Ireland,'

"Bridget is haughty, well-mannered, and a neat dresser. She's a pace-maker in her set. Even the high-headed servants of Warburton House imitate her hats and gowns.

"Last week Katie O'Neil, one of Mrs. Warburton's kitchen-maids, came to me for information as to the heraldry of her house. I found a crest for Katie, and then came Mary Maginniss, and Bertha Schimpfelheim, the daughter of a real German count, and one August Bernheimer, a young barber of baronial blood, and Pietro Cantaveri, our prosperous bootblack, who was the grandson of an Italian countess; and so it went until the high-born servers of Pointview were all supplied with armorial bearings.

"These claims to distinction shall be soberly chronicled in the Advocate. Not one is to be overlooked or treated with any lack of respect. On the contrary, the whole thing will be exploited with a proper sense of awe.

"Marie laughed until she was blue in the face.

"‘Wait till I tell mamma,' she said. 'It's lucky you told me. It's saved us. We were on the high road to destruction.'

"Well, I went on with the crest campaign. Bertha, Pietro, and the others got their crests and saw their names in the paper.

"The supply of crests was now perfectly adequate, and among our best people the demand for them began to diminish and suddenly ceased. The beast, rampant and couchant, the helmet and the battle-ax associated only with mixed tenses and misplaced capitals according to their ancient habit. This chambermaid grammar was referred to by my friend Dr. Guph as the 'battle-ax brand'—a designation of some merit. Expensive stationery fell into the fireplaces of Pointview, and armorial plates were found in the garbage. The family trees of the village were deserted. Not a bird twittered in their branches. The subject of genealogy was buried in deep silence, save when the irreverent referred to some late addition to our new aristocracy.

"Now I want to make it clear that we have no disrespect for the customs of any foreign land. If I were living in a foreign land and needed evidence of my respectability, I'd have a crest if it was likely to prove my case. But America was founded by the sons of the yeomen, and the yeomen established their respectability with other evidence. Their brains were so often slashed by the battle-ax that some of us have an hereditary shyness about the head. We dodge at every baronial relic.

"In due time the Society of Useful Women met at our house, and I was invited to make a few remarks, and said, in effect:

"‘We are trying to correct the evil of extravagant display in America, and first I ask you to consider the cause of it. We find it in the ancient law of supply and demand. The reason that women love to array themselves in silk and laces and jewels and picture-hats and plumes of culture and sunbursts of genealogy lies in the fact that the supply of these things has generally been limited. Their cost is so high, therefore, that few can afford them, and those who wear them are distinguished from the common herd. This matter of buying distinction is the cause of our trouble. Sometimes we buy distinction with our money instead of paying our debts with it, and become promising candidates for the poorhouse or the idiot asylum. Now I propose that we increase the supply of jewels, silks, laces, picture-hats, and ancestors in Pointview—that we bring them within the reach of all, and aim a death-blow at the distinction to be obtained by displaying them. There isn't a servant-girl in this community who doesn't pant for luxuries. Why shouldn't she? I move that we have a committee to consider this inadequate supply of luxuries, with power to increase the same at its own expense.'

"I was appointed chairman of that committee and went to work, with Betsey and Mrs. Warburton as coadjutors. "We stocked a store with clever imitations of silks, satins, and old lace, and the best assortment of Brummagem jewelry that could be raked together. We had a great show-case full of glittering paste—bracelets, tiaras, coronets, sunbursts, dog-collars, rings, necklaces—all extremely modish, and so handsome that they would have deceived any but trained eyes. Our pearls and sapphires were especially attractive. We hired a skilled dressmaker familiar with the latest modes, and a milliner who could imitate the most stunning hats on Fifth Avenue at reasonable prices. To our surprise we began to make money.

"Mrs. Warburton's ball for the servants of Pointview, to be given in the Town Hall, was coming near. She and Marie had done a lot of work getting ready for it. The Warburton servants were the most exclusive in the village. They came and ordered gowns, hats, laces, and jewels. That set the ball rolling, and our establishment was busy night and day. Some mortgaged their incomes, but we gave 'em a free rein.

"The ball sent its radiance over land and sea. It was like a glittering section of the Milky Way. The great room was decorated with palms and flowering plants and armorial shields, in compliment to the battle-ax aristocracy represented by the houses of Maloney, Maginniss, Schimpfelheim, Bernheimer, and Cantaveri. A fine orchestra furnished music. Reporters from New York and other cities were present.

"The nurses, cooks, kitchen-girls, laundresses, and chambermaids of Pointview were radiant in silk, lace, diamonds, pearls, and rubies. The costumes were brilliant, but all in good taste. Alabaster? Why, my dear boy, they would have made the swell set resemble a convention of bean-poles. They busted the record! Some of them were a trifle meaty, but with the aid of corsets, rouge, and powder their beauty forged to the front. They came in at least a neck ahead. Such a collection of jewels, necks, arms, shoulders, and busts was never seen in any ball-room.

"The young men—a good-looking lot—were faultlessly attired in full dress. The presence of Mr. and Mrs. Warburton, of Marie and Reggie, on the floor insured order and lent an air of seriousness to the event. The only mishap occurred when Bertha Schimpfelheim—some call her Big Bertha—slipped and fell in a waltz, injuring the knee of her companion. To my surprise the brainiest of these working-folk saw the satire in which they were taking part, and entered into it with all the more spirit because they knew.

"The event was an epoch-maker. Long reports of it appeared in the daily press, and traveled far in a surge of thoughtful merriment. For instance: 'Miss Katie Maginniss, the accomplished lady-in-waiting of Mrs. William Warburton, of Warburton House, wore a coronet and a dog-collar of diamonds above a costume of white brocaded satin, trimmed with old duchesse lace and gold ornaments. Miss Maginniss is a lineal descendant of Lord Rawdon Maginniss, of Cork, who early in the seventeenth century commanded an army that drove the Italians out of Ireland.'

"And so it went, with column after column of glittering detail. Since then the servants have enjoyed a monopoly in splendor—it's been a kind of Standard Jewel Company. The high-born people of Pointview have bought no gems. I know that some of them have unloaded, and certain rich men have boasted in my presence that they haven't a jewel in their houses, and one added with quite unneeded emphasis: 'Not a measly jewel. My wife says that they suggest dish-water and aprons.'

"‘It is too funny!' said Mrs. Warburton. 'You know those jewels at the ball were quite as real as many that are worn by ladies of fashion. Most rich women who want to save themselves worry keep their jewels in the strong-box and wear replicas of paste and composition.'

"Well, as Dr. Guph would say, 'They are just fiat jewels, and meanwhile the real gems are entertaining the stocks and bonds in the strong-box and making 'em feel at home.'

"The instalment jeweler has gone out of business, and half a dozen servant-girls have refused to make further payments on their solitaires and returned them. We have discovered that silk and diamonds and crests are not to be relied upon as a mark of distinction.

"‘Marie is the real thing,' said young Mr. Van Alstyne, in a talk with me."