"I should let him," advised Madge. She grew thoughtful again. "We
cranky young women, with our new-fangled, independent ways, I guess we
hurt the old folks quite enough as it is."

The bell rang and Madge opened the door herself. It turned out to be
Flossie. Joan had not seen her since they had been at Girton together,
and was surprised at Flossie's youthful "get up." Flossie explained, and
without waiting for any possible attack flew to her own defence.

"The revolution that the world is waiting for," was Flossie's opinion,
"is the providing of every man and woman with a hundred and fifty a year.
Then we shall all be able to afford to be noble and high-minded. As it
is, nine-tenths of the contemptible things we do comes from the necessity
of our having to earn our living. A hundred and fifty a year would
deliver us from evil."

"Would there not still be the diamond dog-collar and the motor car left
to tempt us?" suggested Madge.

"Only the really wicked," contended Flossie. "It would classify us. We
should know then which were the sheep and which the goats. At present
we're all jumbled together: the ungodly who sin out of mere greed and
rapacity, and the just men compelled to sell their birthright of fine
instincts for a mess of meat and potatoes."

"Yah, socialist," commented Madge, who was busy with the tea things.

Flossie seemed struck by an idea.

"By Jove," she exclaimed. "Why did I never think of it. With a red flag