“Why not on the just alone?” I asked, suddenly aware of the birth of an idea.

“Of course you want exemption.”

“You miss my point.  You grant that taxation is necessary?”

“For the sake of argument,” said Peter, “I grant that, with reservations.”

“Since then there must be taxes, why not have taxes that it would be a pleasure to pay?  The current taxes are not a pleasure to pay.”

“I grant that,” said Peter, “without reservations.”

“Now there is only one sort of tax that I can imagine anybody paying gladly, and that would be a tax on his virtues.”

“Still hankering after your own exemption,” growled Peter.

“Leave me out of account.  Take, by preference, yourself.  You have virtues and are proud of them.”

Hilda intervened, as I had anticipated.  “The pride is admitted,” said she, “but as for the assessment value of the virtues——­”

“Never mind that.  You are proud of your virtues”—­I turned to Peter again—­“yet you are sometimes troubled, like the rest of us, by a fear that you may not really possess them after all.  But the assessment of your virtues by the Board of Inland Revenue would prove their existence to yourself and to all the world.”

“Except his wife,” said Hilda.

“Her evidence would not be accepted.  If you had paid taxation for the possession of a virtue, the receipt would be a guarantee that you did possess that particular virtue, and it would consequently be a source of profound moral satisfaction to you.  You would pay with pleasure.  Besides, it is a poor kind of virtue that will not abide a test.  The tax would be a test.  Suppose that five pounds was levied upon you for honesty.  If you refused to pay how could you ever again claim to be honest?  You would be marked as not valuing your honesty at five pounds.  No, you would pay and pay readily.”

My words were addressed to Peter, but Hilda seemed the more interested.  “It sounds well, but how would you raise the money?” she asked.

“That would depend on the virtue,” I replied.  “The sobriety tax, for example, would be levied on anyone who had not for some years been convicted of drunkenness.”

“But how about the virtues that you don’t get fined for not having—­truthfulness, unselfishness, kindheartedness and all those?”

“I admit that would be difficult.  Can you suggest anything?” I asked Peter.

“No,” he answered.  “I’m not encouraging your rotten idea anyhow.”

“Could the revenue officials feel people’s bumps?” inquired Hilda reflectively.

“I’m afraid,” I said, “people wouldn’t stand it.  Fancy Peter——­”

“I’ve got it,” said Hilda.  “The revenue officials would attribute a virtue to the taxpayer, and if he wanted to escape taxation they would require him to prove to them that he lacked the virtue in question.”

“They would like doing that,” muttered Peter.