s
at present mere waste of words. How can you justly reward the laborer
when you cannot ascertain the value of what he makes, owing to the
prevalent custom of stealing it? I know this by experience. I wanted to
pay a just price for my wife's tomb, but I could not find out its
value, and never shall. The principle on which we farm out our national
industry to private marauders, who recompense themselves by black-mail,
so corrupts and paralyzes us that we cannot be honest even when we want
to. And the reason we bear it so calmly is that very few of us really
want to."

"I must study this question of value," said Sir Charles dubiously,
refilling his goblet. "Can you recommend me a good book on the subject?"

"Any good treatise on political economy will do," said Trefusis. "In
economics all roads lead to Socialism, although in nine cases out of
ten, so far, the economist doesn't recognize his destination, and incurs
the malediction pronounced by Jeremiah on those who justify the wicked
for reward. I will look you out a book or two. And if you will call on
Donovan Brown the next time you are in London, he will be delighted, I
know. He meets with very few who are capable of sympathizing with him
from both his points of view--social and artistic."

Sir Charles brightened on being reminded of Donovan Brown. "I shall
esteem an introduction to him a great honor," he said. "I had no idea
that he was a friend of yours."

"I was a very practical young Socialist when I first met him," said
Trefusis. "When Brown was an unknown and wretchedly poor man, my
mother, at the petition of a friend of his, charitably bought one of
his pictures for thirty pounds, which he was very glad to get. Years
afterwards, when my mother was dead, and Brown famous, I was offered
eight hundred pounds for this picture, which was, by-the-bye, a very
bad one in my opinion. Now, after making the usual unjust allowance for
interest on thirty pounds for twelve years or so that had elapsed, the
sale of the picture would have brought me in a profit of over seven
hundred and fifty pounds, an unearned increment to which I had no
righteous claim. My solicitor, to whom I mentioned the matter, was of
opinion that I might justifiably pocket the seven hundred and fifty
pounds as reward for my mother's benevolence in buying a presumably
worthless picture from an obscure painter. But he failed to convince me
that I ought to be paid for my mother's virtues, though we agr