"Possibly," said the Hatter. "We haven't had time yet to look after the millinery aspect of the situation, but we'll take that up at our next Cabinet meeting. I thank you for the suggestion. But you see how the thing works. This little book here has a list of the names of everybody in town with their Municipaphone numbers attached. The lowly as well as the highly, from the newsboy up to the Bridge Whist set, are all represented here, so that all are connected in one way or another with each other. There is no man, woman, or child so poor and humble of birth, that he or she cannot get into immediate relations with the haughty and proud. Everybody is on speaking terms with everybody else, and we have thereby reached socially a condition wherein all men though not related are nevertheless connected. You frequently hear a wash-lady remark that while she has not met Mrs. Van Varick Van Astorbilt or Mrs. Willieboy de Crudoil personally, they are nevertheless connections of hers if not by blood or marriage at least by wire, which is stronger than either. Some day instead of having Societies of the Cincinnati, and Sons and Daughters of the Revolution I hope to see associations of Brothers and Sisters of the Municipaphone which shall become a factor of overwhelming solidarity in all social and political affairs. "It's a splendid scheme," said Alice. "It is a tie of material strength which binds together our first and last families, increasing the pride of the latter, and diminishing that of the former until we have at last reached an average of self-satisfaction which knows no barriers of class distinction," said the Hatter. "But it wouldn't have worked if we hadn't formulated strict rules by which every household in town is governed. One of our rules is that the person called upon must answer immediately and truthfully any question which the person at the other end asks, and of course in perfectly polite language. For instance, suppose you try it yourself. Just ring up Number 83115, Bloomingdale, and ask for Mrs. S. Van Livingston Smythe. She's the biggest swell in town. Ask her anything that comes into your head, and you'll see how it works. Tell her you are Mrs. O'Flaherty, the Head Wash-Lady of the Municipal Laundry." Alice took her place at the Municipaphone and called 83115 Bloomingdale, as instructed. "Hello!" she said. "Hush! Don't say that--say Ah there!" interrupted the Hatter. "Hello comes under the head of profanity, which is against the law." "Excuse me," said Alice. "Ah there!" she added. "Give me 83115 Bloomingdale, please, Central." "Name, please," said Central. "Bridget O'Flaherty," replied Alice. "Address?" asked Central. "Tub 37, Municipal Laundry," said Alice. "Occupation?" continued the other. "Wringer," laughed Alice. "All right, there you are," said Central, making the desired connection. "Is this Mrs. S. Van Livingston Smythe?" asked Alice. "Yes," said a sweet voice from the other end of the line. "What is it?"