"By-the-way, what is the point?" I asked, with my humorous lightness.

"Why, I supposed," said the banker, "it was the question how the working
classes amused their elegant leisure. But it seems to be almost anything
else."

We all applauded the neat touch, but the Altrurian eagerly entreated:
"No, no; never mind that now. That is a matter of comparatively little
interest. I would so much rather know something about the status of the
working-man among you."

"Do you mean his political status? It's that of every other citizen."

"I don't mean that. I suppose that in America you have learned, as we have
in Altruria, that equal political rights are only means to an end, and as
an end have no value or reality. I meant the economic status of the
working-man, and his social status."

I do not know why we were so long girding up our loins to meet this simple
question. I myself could not have hopefully undertaken to answer it; but
the others were each in their way men of affairs, and practically
acquainted with the facts, except perhaps the professor; but he had
devoted a great deal of thought to them, and ought to have been qualified
to make some sort of response. But even he was silent; and I had a vague
feeling that they were all somehow reluctant to formulate their knowledge,
as if it were uncomfortable or discreditable. The banker continued to
smoke quietly on for a moment; then he suddenly threw his cigar away.

"I like to free my mind of cant," he said, with a short laugh, "when I can