GIBSON:  Mine was a worker.  They both landed at Castle Garden, didn’t they?

NORA:  What of that?  Mine remained a thinker and a revolutionist; yours became a capitalist.

GIBSON:  No; he got a job—­in a piano factory.

NORA:  Yes, and took advantage of the capitalistic system to own the factory.

GIBSON:  Before he did own it he worked fourteen hours a day for twelve years.  That’s why he owned it.

NORA:  How many hours a day do you work, Mr. Gibson?

GIBSON:  I have worked twenty-four; sometimes fourteen, sometimes two; usually six.

NORA:  In other words, when you want to work.

GIBSON:  I’ve learned to do things my father never learned to do, and it commands a higher return.

NORA:  You take a higher return!

GIBSON:  You mean I don’t deserve it?

NORA:  Can it be possible that you think you deserve as much as any of these workers?  You don’t so much as touch one of these pianos that bring you your return.  I do!  I work on them with my hands.  Do you think you deserve as much as I?

GIBSON:  No; I don’t go so far as that.

NORA:  Don’t talk to me as a woman!  My work is pleasant enough now; but what work did I have to do before I got this far?  I worked sixteen hours a day, and when I was only a child at that!  Twelve hours I was sewing, and four I studied.  If my father hadn’t known music and taught me a little your capitalistic system would have me sewing twelve hours a day still!

GIBSON:  Yes, Nora; when we learn how to do something we get better pay for it.

NORA:  We do?  Do you really think that?  That we get paid for what we do?

GIBSON:  Yes; that’s what I think.

NORA:  Then what do you get paid for?  For nothing in the world but owning this factory.  You’re paid because you’re a capitalist!

GIBSON:  Is that all?

NORA:  Why, look at the state the factory’s in!  The discontent you saw in those men—­that’s the fault of the capitalistic system!  There aren’t twenty workmen in the place that are contented.

GIBSON:  You’re right about that; and they never will be.

NORA:  Not until the system’s changed.  What are you going to do about it?

GIBSON [with quiet desperation]:  They’ve driven me as far as they can.  If they walk out I’ll walk out.  I can stand it if they can.

NORA:  You’d close down?  Your only solution is to take the bread out of these men’s mouths?

GIBSON:  If they walk out I’ll walk out!

NORA [trembling]:  You coward!

GIBSON:  That’s fair?

NORA:  You’ll let us starve because you haven’t the courage to come to the right solution!  Don’t you mind starving us?

GIBSON:  You mean you’d starve if I quit.

NORA [vehemently]:  No; but because you’d close the factory.