“How does it read?” asked Tom—“something about men being born free and equal—a barber's as good as a millionaire's son—isn't it?”
“It's all right,” replied Dupont, “Kidder and I only took one bell to the theatre, but you kindly supplied us with two. Nothing's too good for us at that café now, and we've invited Kitty and May to go to the theatre with us to-morrow night.”
“It's no use, Quincy,” said Tom. “Dupont and Kidder took their medicine as patiently as we did, and they liked it so well they're going to have more of it.”
Then he told Quincy what Dupont had said.
“The victory's ours,” cried Quincy. “That shows that Americans, rich or poor, are democratic at heart. All that keeps them apart is the foolish idea that the possession of money lifts them above their fellows. Put them on a money equality, and only the very exclusive ones will care about the colour of their blood. It was a good lesson for Dupont and Kidder whose fathers are wealthy men, and they have wisely profited by it.”
“Then you don't believe in social castes?” said Tom.
“Why should I? My father married a poor girl and I don't expect to find my wife on Beacon Street or Commonwealth Avenue.”
After Tom had asked his question the thought came to him that if Quincy had believed in social distinctions on account of wealth he would not have chosen the son of a cotton weaver as his boon companion, but it was too late to take back the question, and Quincy had answered it.
The four years of study were at an end. Quincy was loaded with scholastic honours while Tom's prowess has been most effectually shown on the ball team and in the 'Varsity Eight, which came near winning a trophy for the Crimson.
Just before Class Day, Quincy went into the office of Sawyer, Crowninshield, Lawrence & Merry to see Harry Merry about some matters connected with his income.