“The Philomathean is made up of an able body of men,” replied Mr. Whitely in a delightfully patronizing tone. “Some few of the very ablest, perhaps, do not care to be members; but of the second rank, you may say, broadly speaking, that it includes all men of prominence in this city.” “But why should the abler men not belong?” “They are too occupied with more vital matters,” explained my employer. “Yet surely they must need a club, and what one so appropriate as this?” “It is natural to reason so,” assented the would-be member. “But as an actual fact, some of the most prominent men in this city are not members,” and he mentioned three well-known names. The inference was so unjust that I observed, “Should you not add, Mr. Whitely, that they are not members either because they know it is useless to apply, or because they have applied in vain; and that their exclusion, though superficially a small affair, probably means to them, by the implication it carries, one of the keenest mortifications of their lives?” “You mean that the Philomathean refuses to admit such men as Mr. Whitely named?” you asked incredulously. I smiled. “The worldly reputation and the professional reputation of men occasionally differ very greatly, Miss Walton. We do not accept a man here because his name appears often in the newspapers, but because of what the men of his own calling know and think of him.” “And of course they are always jealous of a man who has surpassed them,” contended Mr. Whitely. “There must be something more against a man than envy of his confrères to exclude him,” I answered. “My loyalty to the Philomathean, Miss Walton, is due to the influence it exerts in this very matter. Errors are possible, but the intention is that no man shall be of our brotherhood who is not honestly doing something worth the doing, for other reasons than mere money-making. And for that very reason, we are supposed, within these walls, to be friends, whether or not there is acquaintance outside of them. We are the one club in New York which dares to trust its membership list implicitly to that extent. Charlatanry and dishonesty may succeed with the world, but here they fail. Money will buy much, but the poorest man stands on a par here with the wealthiest.” “You make me envious of you both,” you sighed, just as Mrs. Blodgett and Agnes joined us. “What are you envying them?” asked Agnes, as she shook hands with you,—“that they were monopolizing you? How selfish men are!” “In monopolizing this club?” “Was that what you envied them?” ejaculated Mrs. Blodgett. “I for one am glad there’s a place to which I can’t go, where I can send my husband when I want to be rid of him.” Then she turned to Mr. Whitely, and with her usual directness remarked, “So they’ve let you in? Mr. Blodgett told me you would surely be rejected.”