besides, I could not imagine why a walking delegate should wish to address
his clumsy satire to me particularly. For the present, at least, there was
nothing for it but to deal with this inquiry as if it were made in good
faith and in the pursuit of useful information. It struck me as grotesque;
but it would not have been decent to treat it as if it were so. I was
obliged to regard it seriously, and so I decided to shirk it.

"Well," I said, "that opens up rather a large field, which lies somewhat
outside of the province of my own activities. You know, I am a writer of
romantic fiction, and my time is so fully occupied in manipulating the
destinies of the good old-fashioned hero and heroine, and trying always to
make them end in a happy marriage, that I have hardly had a chance to look
much into the lives of agriculturists or artisans; and, to tell you the
truth, I don't know what they do with their leisure. I'm pretty certain,
though, you won't meet any of them in this hotel; they couldn't afford it,
and I fancy they would find themselves out of their element among our
guests. We respect them thoroughly; every American does, and we know that
the prosperity of the country rests with them; we have a theory that they
are politically sovereign, but we see very little of them, and we don't
associate with them. In fact, our cultivated people have so little
interest in them socially that they don't like to meet them, even in
fiction; they prefer refined and polished ladies and gentlemen, whom they
can have some sympathy with; and I always go to the upper classes for my
types. It won't do to suppose, though, that we are indifferent to the
working classes in their place. Their condition is being studied a good
deal just now, and there are several persons here who will be able to
satisfy your curiosity on the points you have made, I think. I will
introduce you to them."

The Altrurian did not try to detain me this time. He said he should be