take you to a tea where you may meet them all and judge for
yourself."

"I see you mean to prevent my favorite method of character study. I fear
you will succeed, as the enticing preventive you suggest cannot possibly
fail to be effectual. I willingly submit to your cure and will come to
you at the appointed hour."

The fall of the act drop was followed by a confused fluttering of
dresses and hum of voices; people stretched and rose, talked, or
wandered toward the foyer, while hundreds of glasses were leveled at the
boxes, and every one of mark or notoriety was scrutinized by hundreds of
eyes and criticised by hundreds of tongues. Society was there paraded in
two rows of little pens, labeled and ticketed at so many millions per
head, to be gazed upon by the curious and envious of that great throng.
Society was the operatic side-show, and society paid dearly for the
privilege of being seen.

"Do you like to be gazed at by a crowd, Mr. Grahame?" said Florence,
after a momentary silence.

"Yes, I think I do," he replied. "It makes one feel so superior to be up
above, looking down on the 'madding crowd'."

"Do you think so? I always feel like a caged animal at a menagerie,
where each one who pays the admission fee can gratify the curiosity he
has about me, and poke me with his umbrella if he does not like my
looks."

"How absurd; but I understand you are democratic in your feelings and
object to class distinctions."

"Not in the least; on the contrary I believe in them. Nature herself has
decreed that no two creatures can be equal. What I object to are
inflated distinctions which rest on no foundation, and collapse
completely when pricked by sound opinion."

"Miss Moreland believes in an aristocracy of merit," interposed Harold
Wainwright.

"Yes," replied Florence, "but where is it to be found?"

"Not in a republic," retorted Duncan. "A democracy is a breeding ground
of plutocrats."

"Perhaps, when its Government discourages every intellectual pursuit,"
replied Wainwright. He felt strongly the ungratefulness of republics, as
his father had been a Federal judge on a miserly salary, with no pension
after years of faithful service.

"I quite agree with you, Harold," replied Florence, "and I only wish I
were a man."

"Why?" interposed Mrs. Sanderson, who had just finished interchanging
polite platitudes with Walter Sedger.

"So that I might express my views about the evils of our political
system."

"And b