"And how did little Apple Dumpling meet this demand?" inquired Pryor. "Like a trump! Said she’d stand by me to the limit—also that the Susan B. Anthony House, being designed for busy people and not for busy*bodies*, Mrs. Farrar (the one with the horn-rimmed spectacles) would have to vacate at the end of the week. Further that, in the future, it is to be a fixed rule of the house that any mother, married or unmarried, may become a tenant, and no questions asked other than those needed to satisfy Mrs. Jerome or her representative that the applicant is both self-supporting and self-respecting—" "Bravo!" "And, furthermore, she then and there dictated a letter to be sent to the liberal weeklies in New York, informing their readers of the adoption of this new rule." "Hurrah!" cried Pryor. "The next time anybody queries, in the words of the immortal William: "’What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?’ I’ll answer: No king; but let me tip you the name of a _queen_—Mrs. R. H. L. Jerome, the magnificent. _She_ can turn the trick." "Yes, she’s a perfect darling. Do you know, I didn’t mind the backbiting of those silly women a bit. But Mrs. Jerome’s unhesitating support made me want to cry." She added that in a private conversation with the dear lady she had urged her own resignation as a matter of practical wisdom. Wasn’t the cause greater than the individual?—"Rubbish!" Mrs. Jerome had replied with a considerable show of heat. No cause was worth the cowardly abandonment of a comrade! For two thousand years men had prated of the holy duties of friend to friend, and had committed one crime against friendship after another. And when these crimes were committed, what did they do? They folded their hands, raised pious eyes to heaven, and sang (through their noses), "Alas for the rarity of Christian charity!" etc. Well, women would show them that the time to be loyal was not when the pack curried favor with your friend but when it turned to rend him. "What do you mean to do now?" asked Pryor. "I shall stick it out. After all, I’m not looking for social or official favors. All I ask is to be allowed to do the best work of which I’m capable. Surely, I have that right." "So you think," said Pryor drily. "But bear in mind that for every _bona fide_ worker in New York, there are nine idlers or time wasters, nine breeders of noise, disorder and disease. And don’t forget that the chief objection to the idler is not that he neglects his own work, but that he insists on interrupting or damaging yours. The doer is the waster’s sworn enemy to all eternity. And the waster knows it! Therefore, he spies out your vulnerable spot: social, economic, psychic, whatever it be; and the first moment he catches you off guard, he sends his poisoned arrow straight to your Achilles’ heel." "I suppose I must take my chance of that. What else can I do?" "You might imitate me." "Imitate you! What do you mean?"