row that he can't find tenants for at all, unless he were to let them
to--to objectionable characters."

Clytie threw this out with all boldness. The matter was purely economic,
sociological; they were talking quite as man to man. Abner brought every
woman to this point sooner or later.

As for the troubles of landlords, he had no sympathy with them. And to
him the most objectionable of all "objectionable characters" was the man
who had a strong box stuffed with farm mortgages--town-dwellers, the
great bulk of them. "Oh, the cities, the cities!" he groaned. Then, more
cheerfully: "But never mind: they are passing."

"Passing? I like that! Do you know that eighteen and two-thirds per cent
of the population of the United States lives in towns of one hundred
thousand inhabitants and above, and that the number is increasing at the
rate of----"

"They are disintegrating," pursued Abner stolidly. "By their own
bulk--like a big snowball. And by their own badness. People are rolling
back to the country--the country they came from. Improved transportation
will do it." The troubles of the town were ephemeral--he waved them
aside. But his face was set in a frown--doubtless at the thought of the
perdurable afflictions of the country.

"Don't worry over these passing difficulties that arise from a mere
temporary congestion of population. They will take care of themselves.
Meanwhile, don't sport with them; don't encourage your young friends to
make them a vehicle of their own selfish pleasures; don't----"