be clear at a glance that nobody whose occupation prescribed
a clean face could be expected to travel cheek by jowl,
as a privilege, with persons who were habitually seen
with smutty ones, barefaced smut, streaming out at the
polite afternoon hour of six, jangling an empty dinner
pail. So much we may decide, and leave it, reflecting as
we go how simple and satisfactory, after all, are the
prejudices which can hold up such obvious justification.
There was recently to be pointed out in England the heir
to a dukedom who loved stoking, and got his face smutty
by preference. He would have been deplorably subversive
of accepted conventions in Elgin; but, happily or otherwise,
such persons and such places have at present little more
than an imaginative acquaintance, vaguely cordial on the
one side, vaguely critical on the other, and of no
importance in the sum.

Polite society, to return to it, preferred the alternative
of staying at home and mowing the lawn or drinking
raspberry vinegar on its own beflagged verandah; looking
forward in the afternoon to the lacrosse match. There
was nearly always a lacrosse match on the Queen's Birthday,
and it was the part of elegance to attend and encourage
the home team, as well as that of small boys, with broken
straw hats, who sneaked an entrance, and were more
enthusiastic than anyone. It was "a quarter" to get in,
so the spectators were naturally composed of persons who
could afford the quarter, and persons like the young
Flannigans and Finnigans, who absolutely couldn't, but
who had to be there all the same. Lorne and Advena