“Good, very good!” murmured Mr. Gallantry. “Eloquent!”
“I admit the eloquence,” said Mrs. Gallantry, smiling at Lashmar with much amiability, “but I really can’t see why this lesson couldn’t have been just as well taught by the measure that I proposed.”
“Let me show you why I think not,” replied Dyce, who was now enjoying the sound of his own periods, and felt himself inspired by the general attention. “The idea of domestic service is far too familiar to these rustics to furnish the basis of any new generalisation. They have long ceased to regard it as an honour or an advantage for their girls to go into the house of their social superiors; it seems to them a kind of slavery; what they aim at is a more independent form of wage-earning, and that’s why they go off to the great towns, where there are factories and public-houses, work-rooms and shops. To establish here the training institution you speak of would have done many sorts of good, but not, I think, that particular good, of supreme importance, which results from Lady Ogram’s activity. In the rustics’ eyes, it would be merely a new device for filling up the ranks of cooks and housemaids, to the sole advantage of an upper class. Of course that view is altogether wrong, but it would be held. The paper-mill, being quite a novel enterprise, excites new thoughts. It offers the independence these people desire, and yet it exacts an obvious discipline. It establishes a social group corresponding exactly to the ideal organism which evolution will some day produce: on the one hand ordinary human beings understanding their obligations and receiving their due; on the other, a superior mind, reciprocally fulfilling its duties, and reaping the nobler advantage which consists in a sense of worthy achievement.”
“Very striking indeed!” fell from Mr. Gallantry.
“You seem to have made out a fair case, Mr. Lashmar,” said his wife, with a good-natured laugh. “I’m not sure that I couldn’t debate the point still, but at present I’ll be satisfied with your approval of my scheme.”