“Why, Ollie! What a thing to say! I am a thorough-going communist I hope. I’d give the coat off my back without a pang.”
“Of course you would, because it is a horrid old thing any way, and men look frights in coats always. Men don’t care about clothes, only just to cover themselves and keep themselves warm. One rag would do as well as another.”
“You are an incorrigible little individualist and a greedy one as well, I do declare,” said Ezra, half laughing at her vehemence.
“No, it’s not that, only I see what is what,” replied Olive oracularly.
“And what might that be?”
“The Pioneers are only communistic for rubbish and rags, and not for dolls and hammers. That’s what they are,” said Olive, with her face aflame.
“Rubbish and rags! What an absurd thing to say. Who ever heard such nonsense?” said Ezra, loftily ignoring his wife’s argument in a way that wise men often affect.
“’Tisn’t nonsense,” said Olive hotly. “It is just what people say of Perfection City.”
“What people say it?” asked Ezra.
“Well, Mr. Perseus for one,” said Olive, repenting of her daring in getting into the subject at all.