“I think it is perfectly proper,” she said, “to consider all things from the point of view of their utility.  I do not believe in sending a ball-dress to a poor woman who is starving or suffering for want of coal, but I must say, John, that you carry your theory too far when you insist on using an object for some purpose for which it was manifestly never intended.”

“But who is to say what a thing is manifestly made for?” demanded Carraway.  “You don’t know, or at least you can’t say positively, what one of many possible uses the designer and maker of any object had in mind when he designed and made that especial object.  This particular vase was fashioned by a heathen.  It is beautiful and graceful, but beyond producing something beautiful and graceful, how can you say what other notion that heathen had as to its possible usefulness?  He may have made it to hold flowers.  He may have intended it for a water-jug.  He may have considered it a suitable receptacle in which its future favored owner might keep his tobacco, or his opium, or any one of the thousand and one things that you can put in a vase with a hope of getting it out again.”

“Well, we know he didn’t intend it for golf-balls, anyhow,” said Mrs. Carraway.  “For the very simple reason that the heathen don’t play golf.”

“They may play some kind of a game which is a heathen variation of golf,” observed Mr. Carraway, coldly.

“That couldn’t be,” persisted Mrs. Carraway. “judging from the effect of Sunday golf-playing on church attendance, I don’t think anything more completely pagan than golf could be found.  However—­”

“But the fact remains, my dear,” Carraway interrupted, “that while we may surmise properly enough that the original maker of an object did not intend it to be used for certain purposes, you cannot say positively, because you don’t know that your surmise is absolutely correct.”

“But I think you can,” said Mrs. Carraway.  “In fact, I will say positively that the man who made our new frying-pan made it to fry things in, and not to be used in connection with a tack-hammer as a dinner-gong.  I know that the hardware people who manufactured our clothes-boiler, down in the laundry, did not design it as a toy bass-drum for the children to bang on on the morning of the Fourth of July.  I would make a solemn affidavit to the fact that the maker of a baby-carriage never dreamed of its possible use as an impromptu toboggan for a couple of small boys to coast downhill on in midsummer.  Yet these things have been used for these various purposes in our own household experience.  A megaphone can be used as a beehive, and a hammock can be turned into a fly-net for a horse, but you never think of doing so; and, furthermore, you can say positively that while the things may be used for these purposes, the original maker never, never, never thought of it.”

“Nonsense,” said Carraway, wilting a little.  “Nonsense.  You argue just like a woman—­”