“It is not with us,” they explained gently, “so it is hard for us to understand. Do you mean, for instance, that with you no mother would work for her children without the stimulus of competition?” No, he admitted that he did not mean that. Mothers, he supposed, would of course work for their children in the home; but the world’s work was different--that had to be done by men, and required the competitive element. All our teachers were eagerly interested. “We want so much to know--you have the whole world to tell us of, and we have only our little land! And there are two of you--the two sexes--to love and help one another. It must be a rich and wonderful world. Tell us--what is the work of the world, that men do--which we have not here?” “Oh, everything,” Terry said grandly. “The men do everything, with us.” He squared his broad shoulders and lifted his chest. “We do not allow our women to work. Women are loved--idolized--honored--kept in the home to care for the children.” “What is ‘the home’?” asked Somel a little wistfully. But Zava begged: “Tell me first, do _no_ women work, really?” “Why, yes,” Terry admitted. “Some have to, of the poorer sort.” “About how many--in your country?” “About seven or eight million,” said Jeff, as mischievous as ever. CHAPTER 6. Comparisons Are Odious I had always been proud of my country, of course. Everyone is. Compared with the other lands and other races I knew, the United States of America had always seemed to me, speaking modestly, as good as the best of them. But just as a clear-eyed, intelligent, perfectly honest, and well-meaning child will frequently jar one’s self-esteem by innocent questions, so did these women, without the slightest appearance of malice or satire, continually bring up points of discussion which we spent our best efforts in evading. Now that we were fairly proficient in their language, had read a lot about their history, and had given them the general outlines of ours, they were able to press their questions closer. So when Jeff admitted the number of “women wage earners” we had, they instantly asked for the total population, for the proportion of adult women, and found that there were but twenty million or so at the outside. “Then at least a third of your women are--what is it you call them--wage earners? And they are all _poor_. What is _poor_, exactly?” “Ours is the best country in the world as to poverty,” Terry told them. “We do not have the wretched paupers and beggars of the older countries, I assure you. Why, European visitors tell us, we don’t know what poverty is.” “Neither do we,” answered Zava. “Won’t you tell us?”