"Just so. We live under the wage system now--the system of free contract by which labourer and employer agree. Under your system contract would be abolished, and men would do what they are _told_ to do--a system of _command_ instead of _contract_--is it not so?" "I should say just the opposite. Men are forced to work now at tasks they loathe and for pay that is insufficient. Under our state they would be free to choose the work for which they are fitted." "And suppose they all choose one job?" "The state would assign their work in the last resort." "There you are, once more, bowing down to the same Tom, Dick, and Harry. And you cannot see that Socialism would impose on man the most colossal system of slavery, the most merciless because the most impersonal, the world ever saw?" "No, I cannot. Give me a chance on one spot of earth free from the corruption of your present system, and I'll show you that man is a child of God, that deep in every human soul is planted the sense of brotherhood, justice, and human fellowship." "And you will abolish private property?" "Except what each man earns or makes for himself." The Colonel laughed aloud. "Can he earn a wife, or make one for himself?" "No; nor own one as a slave." "You can never abolish private property, my boy, so long as any man has the right to say, 'This woman is mine.' The home is the basis of modern civilization. If you destroy it the home will not survive. If the home survives it will kill Socialism. The two things can't mix." Norman laughed. "And you think capitalism is building ideal homes with its drudgery that kills woman--its poverty that starves the man and drives the girl to a life of shame?" "Our conditions are not ideal, my son. But they are growing better with each generation. Because all homes are not ideal, you propose to abolish the institution. There are ten million homes in America. Perhaps a million of them are unhappy. Can we mend matters by destroying them all?" "Socialism proposes to build the highest ideal of home ever seen on earth, founded on love--and only love." The Colonel smiled sadly. "I see I'm too late. You've got it bad. Socialism is a contagious disease, imported from the old world--a brain disease, the result of centuries of wrong and oppression. Its reasons for existence in this country are purely imaginary. If it were possible for you to build the new State of Ventura of which you dream----" "Dream! We are going to do it, I tell you, Governor! We have a hundred thousand dollars already pledged. We hold to-morrow night a great mass-meeting at which five thousand Socialists will be present. Four hundred thousand dollars more will buy the island and give a capital of three hundred thousand with which to begin." "Then I can't persuade you to give up this madness?" the Colonel asked, tenderly. "It's my life," Norman answered firmly. The father slipped his arm around the tall, strong figure.