e cost of this single night's show would put two hundred
men like Father Waite through a four-year course in the University,
and train them to do life's work! And what, what will Mr. Ames get out
of it?"

"Oh, further opportunities to increase his pile, I suppose," returned
Haynerd, shrugging his shoulders.

"But, will he get real happiness? Peace? Joy? And does he need further
opportunities to accumulate money? Does he not rather need some one to
show him the meaning of life, how to really live?"

"He does, indeed! And it may be your mission, Carmen, to do just that.
But if you don't, then I sincerely hope the man may die before he
discovers that all that he has achieved, his wealth, his prestige, his
power, have not been worth striving for!"

"He hasn't the slightest idea of the meaning of life," she murmured,
looking down upon the glittering throng. "Nor have any of them."

"No," he replied. "They put me in mind of Carlyle's famous remark, as
he stood looking out across the London Strand: 'There are in this city
some four million people, mostly fools.' How mean, narrow and hard
their lives are! These are the high priests of vested privilege, of
mediaevalism, of old institutions whose perpetual maintenance, even in
a generation that has progressed far beyond them, is a fungus blight
upon us. Ah, there's little Willie Van Wot, all dolled out! He's
glorifying his Creator now by devoting his foolish little existence to
coaching trips along the New England shore. He reminds me of the Fleet
street poet who wrote a century ago of the similar occupation of a
young dandy of that day--

What can little T. O. do?
Why, drive a Phaeton and Two!!!
Can little T. O. do no more?
Yes, drive a Phaeton and Four!!!!

"He's an interesting outgrowth of our unique social system, eh?"

"We must follow Emerson and treat them all as we do pictures, look at
them in the best light," murmured Carmen.

"Aye, hang them in the best light!" returned Haynerd. "But make sure
they're well hung! There goes the pseudo-princess, member of the royal
house of England. She carries the royal taint, too. I tell you, under
the splash and glitter you can see the feet of clay, eh?"

"Yes," smiled Carmen, "resting upon the high heel."

"Huh!" muttered Haynerd, with a gesture of disgust. "The women of
fashion seem to feel that the Creator didn't do a good job when He
designed the f