"Sacrifice!" retorted Cleon with open eyes. "Why, it isn't a sacrifice! It is the greatest honor a woman can have!" "And what does Lydia say to it?" "She hasn't made up her mind." "Oh, then, she has to be consulted," said I, relieved. "She cannot be compelled." "Oh, no," answered Cleon, "she is selected--that is to say, the honor is offered to her; she may not accept it if she does not like; but a girl seldom refuses. She is no more likely to refuse the mission of Demeter than Chairo would be to refuse the Presidency. It is very hard work being President--very wearing; in fact, I should think it would be an awful bore; but nobody ever refuses it, because of the honor. I suppose it is the same thing with the mission of Demeter." I was more and more puzzled, but despaired of getting satisfaction from Cleon. CHAPTER II HARVESTING AND HARMONY We had finished breakfast now, and my hunger satisfied, I was free to look about me a little. The hall was lofty, and the roof supported by Gothic arches, sculptured by hands that had enjoyed the work; for although the design of the building was simple and dignified it was covered with ornaments of bewildering complexity. We were waited on by women who could not be distinguished from those upon whom they waited; of every age and of every type, most of them were glowing with health and cheerfulness. They laughed a great deal with one another, and offered me advice as to what they put before me; warned me when a dish was hot, and recommended the cream as particularly fresh and sweet. They made me feel as though I had been there for years and knew every one of them intimately. Just as we were finishing, a fine old man with a white beard and a patriarchal countenance joined us: "You come from a couple of centuries ago," he said. "Is it two centuries, or a thousand years?" asked I. "I have been looking at your clothes; you don't mind, do you? they indicate the end of the nineteenth or beginning of the twentieth century." "You have guessed right," said I; "and what year are you?" "We count from the last Constitution which was voted ninety-three years ago, in 2011 of your reckoning. So we call the present year 93." "So you have given up the old Constitution," I said with a touch of sentiment in my voice. "Yes, it had to be changed when we advanced to where we are now in methods of manufacture and distribution of profits." "Can you give your methods a name?" "You used to call it Collectivism; we call it Solidarity." "You mean to say you actually practise Collectivism!" The patriarch smiled.