The complete success of Mr. McFarlane pointed the way to others, whose training had made them quick to learn new methods of pleasing--when they wanted to please. In a few minutes astounding revelations had been made on all sides. Mr. Lossing, the haughty and exclusive Mr. Lossing, confessed, or rather he loudly and repeatedly asserted, that he had long been secretly married to his cook--than whom, he insisted, no one was a more persistent and skillful manual worker. Mr. Barnsell, who had always seemed to live remarkably well on the proceeds of a somewhat tenuous law-practice, pleaded for publicity for the fact that his father had kept a tailor's shop--and he offered to produce photographs in proof of his statement. "Did you ever work in this shop?" asked the delegate. "I'm afraid not," answered Mr. Barnsell reluctantly. "My mother,--you know how petty women are about class distinctions,--she wanted me to rise in the world--" "_Rise!_" exclaimed the delegate haughtily. "You are untrue to your class, sir." "Perhaps--a little," murmured Mr. Barnsell meekly. "But we will pass you," said the delegate, "for the sake of your father." By a somewhat unexpected application of Bolshevist principles, the delegate exempted members of the military and naval services, and visiting foreigners, from any examination. He showed a tendency also to pass over Mrs. Grey, although she kept asserting that none of her ancestors had ever done anything useful. "Unless," she added thoughtfully, "Lionel Grey, whom they sent to the Tower for a day or two in 1673 for killing his valet. He may have had to sweep out his room. And I have a son," she added more loudly, "who is just as bad." "You mean your son does not work?" said the delegate, as if he felt the statement so unlikely that he was ready to contradict it. "I shouldn't call him usefully employed at this moment," replied the old lady. "Would you like me to describe what he is doing?" "Be silent, madam," said the delegate, and turned hastily away to the examination of the Torby family. Asked rather roughly what he had to say for himself, Mr. Torby rose. "I have to say," he began, "that I agree with my friend Mr. Barnsell, that this whole movement is extremely un-American. This country is a democracy--our forefathers died to make it so; and for you to attempt to introduce all these dangerous ideas of class antagonism is opposed to all the ideals of the founders of this nation. There are no class distinctions in America. I may rise today, and you tomorrow--or you might have, if you had not cast in your lot with these lawless rascals who all will end in jail. Take the example of Mr. Barnsell here--proud to own his father's trade." (Mr. Barnsell tried to oblige with a proud look.) "And I too--my father was a farmer. He tilled the soil with his own hands. That, ladies and gentlemen, is America."