“Of Mr. Hughes?” Ray asked; and he restrained himself in a pretended question. “Of Mr. Hughes, and of Mr. Hughes’s friends.” Ray flashed out upon this. “I think his friends are a lot of cranks.” “Yes; very good; very excellent good! They _are_ a lot of cranks. Are they the first you have met in New York?” “No; the place seems to be full of them.” “Beginning with the elderly gentleman whom you met the first morning?” “Beginning with the young man who met the elderly gentleman.” Kane smiled with appreciation. “Well, we won’t be harsh on those two. We won’t call _them_ cranks. They are philosophical observers, or inspired dreamers, if you like. As I understand it, we are all dreamers. If we like a man’s dream, we call him a prophet; if we don’t like his dream, we call him a crank. Now, what is the matter with the dreams, severally and collectively, of my dear old friend and his friends? Can you deny that any one of their remedies, if taken faithfully according to the directions blown on the bottle, would cure the world of all its woes inside of six months?” The question gave Ray a chance to vent his vexation impersonally. “What is the matter with the world?” he burst out. “I don’t see that the world is so very sick. Why isn’t it going on very well? I don’t understand what this talk is all about. I don’t see what those people have got to complain of. All any one can ask is a fair chance to show how much his work is worth, and let the best man win. What’s the trouble? Where’s the wrong?” “Ah,” said Kane, “what a pity you didn’t set forth those ideas when Hughes called upon you!” “And have all that crew jump on me? Thank you!” said Ray. “You would call them a crew, then? Perhaps they were a crew,” said Kane. “I don’t know why a reformer should be so grotesque; but he is, and he is always the easy prey of caricature. I couldn’t help feeling to-day how very like the burlesque reformers the real reformers are. And they are always the same, from generation to generation. For all outward difference, those men and brethren of both sexes at poor David’s were very like a group of old-time abolitionists conscientiously qualifying themselves for tar and feathers. Perhaps you don’t like being spoken to in meeting?” “No, I don’t,” said Ray, bluntly. “I fancied a certain reluctance in you at the time, but I don’t think poor David meant any harm. He preaches patience, but I think he secretly feels that he’s got to hurry, if he’s going to have the kingdom of heaven on earth in his time; and he wants every one to lend a hand.” For the reason, or from the instinct, that forbade Ray to let out his wrath directly against Hughes, he now concealed his pity. He asked stiffly: “Couldn’t he be got into some better place? Where he wouldn’t be stunned when he tried to keep from suffocating?” “No, I don’t know that he could,” said Kane, with a pensive singleness rare in him. “Any help of that kind would mean dependence, and David Hughes is proud.”