"We can hardly go to children for a type of social order," the professor
suggested.

"True," the minister meekly admitted. "But somehow there is a protest in
us somewhere against these arbitrary distinctions--something that
questions whether they are altogether right. We know that they must be,
and always have been, and always will be, and yet--well, I will confess
it--I never feel at peace when I face them."

"Oh," said the banker, "if you come to the question of right and wrong,
that is another matter. I don't say it's right. I'm not discussing that
question; though I'm certainly not proposing to level the fences; I should
be the last to take my own down. I say simply that you are no more likely
to meet a working-man in American society than you are to meet a colored
man. Now you can judge," he ended, turning directly to the Altrurian, "how
much we honor labor. And I hope I have indirectly satisfied your curiosity
as to the social status of the working-man among us."

We were all silent.

Perhaps the others were occupied like myself in trying to recall some
instance of a working-man whom they had met in society, and perhaps we
said nothing because we all failed.

The Altrurian spoke at last.

"You have been so very full and explicit that I feel as if it were almost
unseemly to press any further inquiry; but I should very much like to know
how your working-men bear this social exclusion."