“Caroline, they are leading the simple life. Fancy! Was that why you went driving with those colored people yesterday?” Ethel started to tell the facts in the case, but I rudely interrupted and said, “Mrs. Guernsea, in the simple life all men are equal, but in real life there are many inequalities. The woman you saw on the back seat was Minerva, our estimable cook, while the man was James, our man-of-all-play.” I pronounced his title quickly and she did not notice the variation. “This is the land of the free and theoretically all men are free and equal. As a matter of fact, all men are not so, but up here while we lead the simple life we try to make those with whom we come in contact believe that they are so. You met us yesterday, and yesterday I was driving Minerva and James out. Had you met us to-day, James would have been driving Mrs. Vernon and me out.” Both Mrs. Guernsea and her lackadaisical daughter accepted what I had to say in the spirit in which I wished them to accept it; as a truth of the simple life, and it was so different from their own lives that for the nonce it interested them to hear about it. Therefore, despite Ethel’s reproving brow-liftings, I went on. “In our life here in this cottage Minerva does all the cooking, because she is the best cook of the four, just as I do all the reading aloud, because I am the best reader; and Mrs. Vernon does all the embroidery, because she is the best embroiderer; and James—well, we have not yet found what James can do best, but there is one thing—his spirits are never depressed and he heartens us all.” “How curious. And do you believe that such a state of things would be possible in a more complex life, in New York, for instance?” “Mrs. Guernsea, have you ever tried having Mr. Guernsea take your men and your maids out driving in the Park?” “Why, no!” “Try it, when you go back,” said I. “They will be pleased beyond any doubt.” “But your servants were singing. Did not that annoy you?” “My dear Mrs. Guernsea, it is one of the first principles of the simple life not to be annoyed. Didn’t you think their voices sweet?” “Yes, but it seemed so—so unconventional.” “The simple _lifers_,” said I, “abhor conventions that already exist. They aim to create new conventions and live up to them. We felt the need of song. Neither Mrs. Vernon nor myself can sing very acceptably. Both Minerva and James are blessed with delightful voices, so they sang for us without a word of demurring.” “Would they sing now, do you suppose? It was really very lovely.”