``No--don't argue--with me or with anybody,'' rejoined he.``Sit down quietly and think about life-- about your life.Think how it is best to live so that you may get the most out of life--the most substantial happiness.Don't go on doing the silly customary things simply because a silly customary world says they are amusing and worth while.Think--and do--for yourself, Jane Hastings.''
She nodded slowly and thoughtfully.``I'll try to,'' she said.
She looked at him with the expression of the mind aroused.It was an expression that often rewarded him after a long straight talk with a fellow being.She went on: ``I probably shan't do what you'd approve.You see, I've got to be myself--got to live to a certain extent the kind of a life fate has made for me.''
``You couldn't successfully live any other,'' said he.
``But, while it won't be at all what you'd regard as a model life--or even perhaps useful--it'll be very different--very much better--than it would have been, if I hadn't met you--Victor Dorn.''
``Oh, I've done nothing,'' said he.``All I try to do is to encourage my fellow beings to be themselves.So --live your own life--the life you can live best--just as you wear the clothes that fit and become you....And now--about the street car question.What do you want of me?''
``Tell me what to say to father.''
He shook his head.``Can't do it,'' said he.``There's a good place for you to make a beginning.Put on an old dress and go down town and get acquainted with the family life of the street-car men.Talk to their wives and their children.Look into the whole business yourself.''
``But I'm not--not competent to judge,'' objected she.
``Well, make yourself competent,'' advised he.
``I might get Miss Gordon to go with me,'' suggested she.
``You'll learn more thoroughly if you go alone,'' declared he.
She hesitated--ventured with a winning smile: ``You won't go with me--just to get me started right?''
``No,'' said he.``You've got to learn for yourself-- or not at all.If I go with you, you'll get my point of view, and it will take you so much the longer to get your own.''
``Perhaps you'd prefer I didn't go.''
``It's not a matter of much importance, one way or the other--except perhaps to yourself,'' replied he.
``Any one individual can do the human race little good by learning the truth about life.The only benefit is to himself.
Don't forget that in your sweet enthusiasm for doing something noble and generous and helpful.Don't become a Davy Hull.You know, Davy is on earth for the benefit of the human race.Ever since he was born he has been taken care of--supplied with food, clothing, shelter, everything.Yet he imagines that he is somehow a God-appointed guardian of the people who have gathered and cooked his food, made his clothing, served him in every way.
It's very funny, that attitude of your class toward mine.''
``They look up to us,'' said Jane.``You can't blame us for allowing it--for becoming pleased with ourselves.''
``That's the worst of it--we do look up to you,'' admitted he.
``But--we're learning better.''
``YOU'VE already learned better--you personally, I mean.I think that when you compare me, for instance, with a girl like Selma Gordon, you look down on me.''
``Don't you, yourself, feel that any woman who is self-supporting and free is your superior?''
``In some moods, I do,'' replied Jane.``In other moods, I feel as I was brought up to feel.''
They talked on and on, she detaining him without seeming to do so.She felt proud of her adroitness.But the truth was that his stopping on for nearly two hours was almost altogether a tribute to her physical charm--though Victor was unconscious of it.When the afternoon was drawing on toward the time for her father to come, she reluctantly let him go.She said:
``But you'll come again?''
``I can't do that,'' replied he regretfully.``I could not come to your father's house and continue free.I must be able to say what I honestly think, without any restraint.''
``I understand,'' said she.``And I want you to say and to write what you believe to be true and right.But--we'll see each other again.I'm sure we are going to be friends.''
His expression as he bade her good-by told her that she had won his respect and his liking.She had a suspicion that she did not deserve either; but she was full of good resolutions, and assured herself she soon would be what she had pretended--that her pretenses were not exactly false, only somewhat premature.
At dinner that evening she said to her father:
``I think I ought to do something beside enjoy myself.I've decided to go down among the poor people and see whether I can't help them in some way.''
``You'd better keep away from that part of town,'' advised her father.``They live awful dirty, and you might catch some disease.If you want to do anything for the poor, send a check to our minister or to the charity society.There's two kinds of poor--those that are working hard and saving their money and getting up out of the dirt, and those that haven't got no spunk or get-up.The first kind don't need help, and the second don't deserve it.''
``But there are the children, popsy,'' urged Jane.``The children of the no-account poor ought to have a chance.''
``I don't reckon there ever was a more shiftless, do-easy pair than my father and mother,'' rejoined Martin Hastings.``They were what set me to jumping.''
She saw that his view was hopelessly narrow--that, while he regarded himself justly as an extraordinary man, he also, for purposes of prejudice and selfishness, regarded his own achievements in overcoming what would have been hopeless handicaps to any but a giant in character and in physical endurance as an instance of what any one could do if he would but work.She never argued with him when she wished to carry her point.She now said:
