“I need not have asked the question, for I now remember to have seen the fact noticed in one of our papers, that an unfaithful domestic in your family had been handed over to the police.”

“True.  She was a thief.  We found in her trunk a number of valuable articles that she had stolen from us.”

“And you did right.  You owed this summary justice as well to the purloiner as to the public.  Now, there are many ways of stealing, besides this direct mode.  If I deprive you of your property with design, I steal from you.  Isn’t that clear?”

“Certainly.”

“And I am, to use plain words, a thief.  Well, now take this easily to be understood case.  I have a lot of goods to sell, and you wish to purchase them.  In the trade I manage to get from you, through direct misrepresentation, or in a tacit advantage of your ignorance, more than the goods are really worth.  Do I not cheat you?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And having purposely deprived you of a portion of your money, am I not a thief?”

“In all that goes to make up the morality of the case, you are.”

“The truth, unquestionably.  Need I proceed further?  By your own admission, every businessman who takes undue advantage of another in dealing, steals.”

“Pretty close cutting, that, friend Claire.  It wouldn’t do to talk that right out at all times and in all places.”

“Why not?”

“I rather think it would make some people feel bad; and others regard themselves as insulted.”

“I can believe so.  But we are only talking this between ourselves.  And now I come back to my rather abrupt question—­Do you approve of stealing?  No, you say, as a matter of course.  And yet, you but just now were inclined to justify sharp dealing, on the ground that all were sharpers—­quoting the saying of some, that no honest man could trade successfully in the present time.  For the direct stealing of a few articles of trifling value, you hand a poor, ignorant domestic over to the police, yet feel no righteous indignation against the better-taught man of business, who daily robs his customers in some one form or another.”

“You are too serious by far, Edward,” returned his companion, forcing a laugh.  “Your mind has fallen into a morbid state.  But you will get over this one of these times.  Good evening!  Our ways part here.  Good evening!”

And the young man turned off abruptly.

“A morbid state,” mused Claire to himself, as he continued on alone.  “So thousands would say.  But is it so?  Is honesty or dishonesty the morbid state?  How direct a question!  How plain the answer!  Honesty is health—­dishonesty the soul’s sickness.  To be honest, is to live in obedience to social and divine laws; dishonesty is the violation of these.  Is it possible for a diseased body to give physical enjoyment?  No!  Nor can a diseased mind give true mental enjoyment.  To seek happiness in the possession of wealth obtained through wrong to the neighbour, is as fruitless as to seek bodily pleasure in those practices which inevitably destroy the health.  To me, this is self-evident, and may God give me strength to live according to my clear convictions!”