issipated, but as handsome and
noisy and gay.

But Mamie Magen was a socialist who believed that the capitalists with
their profit-sharing and search for improved methods of production were
as sincere in desiring the scientific era as were the most burning
socialists; who loved and understood the most oratorical of the young
socialists with their hair in their eyes, but also loved and understood
the clean little college boys who came into business with a desire to
make it not a war, but a crusade. She was a socialist who was determined
to control and glorify business; a pessimist who was, in her gentle
reticent way, as scornful of half-churches, half-governments,
half-educations, as the cynical Mrs. Lawrence. Finally, she who was not
handsome or dissipated or gay, but sallow and lame and Spartan, knew
"Bohemia" better than most of the professional Hobohemians. As an East
Side child she had grown up in the classes and parties of the University
Settlement; she had been held upon the then juvenile knees of half the
distinguished writers and fighters for reform, who had begun their
careers as settlement workers; she, who was still unknown, a clerk and a
nobody, and who wasn't always syntactical, was accustomed to people
whose names had been made large and sonorous by newspaper publicity; and
at the age when ambitious lady artists and derailed Walter Babsons came
to New York and determinedly seized on Bohemia, Mamie Magen had outgrown
Bohemia and become a worker.

To Una she explained the city, made it comprehensible, made art and
economics and philosophy human and tangible. Una could not always follow
her, but from her she caught the knowledge that the world and all its
wisdom is but a booby, blundering school-boy that needs management and
could be managed, if men and women would be human beings instead of just
business men, or plumbers, or army officers, or commuters, or educators,
or authors, or clubwomen, or traveling salesmen, or Socialists, or
Republicans, or Salvation Army leaders, or wearers of clothes. She
preached to Una a personal kinghood, an education in brotherhood and
responsible nobility, which took in Una's job as much as it did
government ownership or reading poetry.

Sec. 3

Not always was Una breathlessly trying to fly after the lame but
broad-winged Mamie Magen. She attended High Mass at the Spanish church
on Washington Heights with Mrs. Lawrence; felt the beauty of the
ceremony; admired the simpl