“I shall take up the franchise in a series of speeches,” explained Helm. “In each speech I’ll make one point and only one. That’s always my method. If you want to dazzle a crowd, you make a speech full of good points. But if you want to convince them, you take one point and drive it home with a succession of blows, all on the head of that same nail.” Sayler nodded. “Won’t you let me see that ‘backbone’ as you call it?” he asked. “Nail is a better name,” said Helm. “Nail for the lid of the coffin of the trolley franchise grab,” said Sayler. “I hope so,” said Helm. “So do I,” rejoined Sayler. Helm gave him the sheet of paper and Sayler read in Helm’s minute hand this series of notes: Luxurious idlers. Ladies and gentlemen. The more of them we have the poorer we become. Proof: _Comfort_ means wealth and leisure to enjoy--that is, comfort in the lady and gentleman’s sense of the word. Leisure to enjoy means little or no labor. But wealth can be created only by laboring; wealth is nothing but the proceeds of labor. Therefore, To have _comfort_, in the lady and gentleman sense, in the sense in which our new luxury-mad upper class is determined to have it, means that one must “appropriate”--that is, steal--the proceeds of the labor of others. First corollary: That the more “comfortable” the upper class becomes, the more of the proceeds of the labor of others it must be stealing. Second corollary: Since the amount of labor a man can do is necessarily limited by his strength, then the more of the proceeds of his labor is stolen from him, the less there is left for him and the worse off he becomes. General conclusion: The more ladies and gentlemen we have, the harder we must work and the poorer we must become. Sayler read this document through twice. Then he handed it back to Helm. He was smiling cynically to himself. Said he: “Q. E. D. But--why did you show it to _me_?” Helm’s gaze rested gravely upon that of the plutocratic chieftain for the Middle West. He replied: “I see that you want to be friends with me. Why, I don’t know. I am willing--more than willing to be friends with you. But I want you to have no delusions. I want you to know just where I stand--where I shall _always_ stand.” “I hope so,” lied Sayler, with a generous manliness that half fooled himself. “I’m not a zealot like you. I don’t believe in men, in human nature. I think progress comes through the fierce struggle of brutality and cunning against the stupid shiftlessness and indolence of mankind. I admit there are arguments for another view. They happen not to convince me. But, believing as I do, I am more interested in the game than in principles. To me it is simply a game. And so, I like to see good players on both sides. I’d hate to have you come over to our side. God knows, your side is badly enough off for good players.”