and a little variety in the way of some tourists of the Replacer stripe,—­the town kept them well in its mind’s eye.  The automobiles would have sufficed to bring them into disrepute, but Kings Port had a better reason in their conduct in the church; and John found many things to say to me, as we drove along, about Bohm and Charley and Kitty.  Gazza he forgot, although, as shall appear in its place, Gazza was likely to live a long while in his memory.  Beverly Rodgers he, of course, recognized as being a gentleman—­it was clear that Beverly met with Kings Port’s approval—­and, from his Newport experiences, John was able to make out quite as well as if he had heard Beverly explain it himself the whole wise philosophic system of joining with the Replacers in order that you be not replaced yourself.

“In his shoes mightn’t I do the same?” he surmised.  “I fear I’m not as Spartan as my aunts—­only pray don’t mention it to them!”

And then, because I had been answering him with single syllables, or with nods, or not at all, he taxed me with my taciturnity; he even went so far as to ask me what thoughts kept me so silent—­which I did not tell him.

“I am wondering,” I told him instead, “how much they steal every week.”

“Those financiers?”

“Yes.  Bohm is president of an insurance company, and Charley’s a director, and reorganizes railroads.”

“Well, if other people share your pleasant opinion of them, how do they get elected?”

“Other people share their pleasant spoils—­senators, vestrymen—­you can’t be sure who you’re sitting next to at dinner any more.  Come live North.  You’ll find the only safe way is never to know anybody worth more than five millions—­if you wish to keep the criminal classes off your visiting list.”

This made him merry.  “Put ’em in jail, then!”

“Ah, the jail!” I returned.  “It’s the great American joke.  It reverses the rule of our smart society.  Only those who have no incomes are admitted.”

“But what do you have laws and lawyers for?”

“To keep the rich out of jail.  It’s called ‘professional etiquette.’”

“Your picture flatters!”

“You flatter me; it’s only a photograph.  Come North and see.”

“One might think, from your account, the American had rather be bad than good.”

“O dear, no!  The American had much rather be good than bad!”

“Your admission amazes me!”

“But also the American had rather be rich than good.  And he is having his wish.  And money’s golden hand is tightening on the throat of liberty while the labor union stabs liberty in the back—­for trusts and unions are both trying to kill liberty.  And the soul of Uncle Sam has turned into a dollar-inside his great, big, strong, triumphant flesh; so that even his new religion, his own special invention, his last offering to the creeds of the world, his gatherer of converted hordes, his Christian Science, is based upon physical benefit.”