“I don’t object to inequality of mere wealth in itself, because I wouldn’t dignify money to that extent.  Of course I do object to a situation where the rich man can buy life and health for his sick child and the poor man can’t.  Too many sick babies!  That’ll be attended to, all right, in time.  I wouldn’t take away one man’s money for the sake of giving it to others—­not a bit of it.  But what I would do would be to put it out of a man’s power to poison himself with money.

“Suicide is made a crime under the law.  How about moral and intellectual suicide?  It ought to be prevented for the sake of the state.  No citizen should be allowed to stultify himself with luxury any more than he should be permitted to cut off his right hand.  Excuse me for being didactic—­but you said you’d like to get my point of view and I’ve tried to give it to you in a disjointed sort of way.  I’d sooner my son would have to work for his living than not, and I’d rather he’d spend his life contending with the forces of nature and developing the country than in quarreling over the division of profits that other men had earned.”

I had listened attentively to what Hastings had to say; and, though I did not agree with all of it, I was forced to admit the truth of a large part.  He certainly seemed to have come nearer to solving the problem than I had even been able to.  Yet it appeared to my conservative mind shockingly socialistic and chimerical.

“So you really think,” I retorted, “that the state ought to pass laws which should prevent the accumulation—­or at least the retention—­of large fortunes?”

Hastings smiled apologetically.

“Well,” he answered, “I don’t know just how far I should advocate active governmental interference, though it’s a serious question.  You’re a thousand times better qualified to express an opinion on that than I am.

“When I spoke about health and police regulations I was talking metaphorically.  I suppose my real idea is that the moral force of the community—­public opinion—­ought to be strong enough to compel a man to live so that such laws would be unnecessary.  His own public spirit, his conscience, or whatever you call it, should influence him to use whatever he has above a certain amount for the common good—­to turn it back where he got it, or somebody else got it, instead of demoralizing the whole country and setting an example of waste and extravagance.  That kind of thing does an awful lot of harm.  I see it all round me.  But, of course, the worst sufferer is the man himself, and his own good sense ought to jack him up.

“Still you can’t force people to keep healthy.  If a man is bound to sacrifice everything for money and make himself sick with it, perhaps he ought to be prevented.”

“Jim!” cried Mrs. Hastings, coming in with a pitcher of cider and some glasses.  “I could hear you talking all the way out in the kitchen.  I’m sure you’ve bored our guest to death.  Why, the chestnuts are burned to a crisp!”