The banker paused, and, as the silence continued, he broke it with a laugh, which was a prodigious relief to my feelings, and I suppose to the feelings of all. I perceived that he had been joking, and I was confirmed in this when he turned to the Altrurian and laid his hand upon his shoulder. “You see,” he said, “I’m a kind of Altrurian myself. What is the reason why we should not found a new Altruria here on the lines I’ve drawn? Have you never had philosophers--well, call them philanthropists; I don’t mind--of my way of thinking among you?” “Oh yes,” said the Altrurian. “At one time, just before we emerged from the competitive conditions, there was much serious question whether capital should not own labor instead of labor owning capital. That was many hundred years ago.” “I am proud to find myself such an advanced thinker,” said the banker. “And how came you to decide that labor should own capital?” “We voted it,” answered the Altrurian. “Well,” said the banker, “our fellows are still fighting it, and getting beaten.” I found him later in the evening talking with Mrs. Makely. “My dear sir,” I said, “I liked your frankness with my Altrurian friend immensely; and it may be well to put the worst foot foremost; but what is the advantage of not leaving us a leg to stand upon?” He was not in the least offended at my boldness, as I had feared he might be, but he said, with that jolly laugh of his: “Capital! Well, perhaps I have worked my candor a little too hard; I suppose there is such a thing. But don’t you see that it leaves me in the best possible position to carry the war into Altruria when we get him to open up about his native land?” “Ah! If you can get him to do it.” “Well, we were just talking about that. Mrs. Makely has a plan.” “Yes,” said the lady, turning an empty chair near her own toward me. “Sit down and listen.” X I sat down, and Mrs. Makely continued: “I have thought it all out, and I want you to confess that in all practical matters a woman’s brain is better than a man’s. Mr. Bullion, here, says it is, and I want you to say so, too.” “Yes,” the banker admitted, “when it comes down to business a woman is worth any two of us.” “And we have just been agreeing,” I coincided, “that the only gentlemen among us are women. Mrs. Makely, I admit, without further dispute, that the most unworldly woman is worldlier than the worldliest man; and that in all practical matters we fade into dreamers and doctrinaires beside you. Now, go on.” But she did not mean to let me off so easily. She began to brag herself up, as women do whenever you make them the slightest concession.