"Yes, to take up another under the same heavy conditions, if there was any opening; or to starve—that was their freedom."
"Well, what would you have?" I asked. "A man must work for his living surely."
"Remember your economic platitude, Mr. Robertson," Dr. Harkness suggested. "The whole world's life, comfort, prosperity and progress depends upon the work done, you know. It was not their living they were working for; it was the world's."
"That is very pretty as a sentiment," I was beginning; but his twinkling eye reminded that an economic platitude is not precisely sentimental.
"That's where the change came," Mr. Pike eagerly repeated. "The idea that each man had to do it for himself kept us blinded to the fact that it was all social service; that they worked for the world, and the world treated them shamefully—so shamefully that their product was deteriorated, markedly deteriorated."
"You will be continually surprised, Mr. Robertson, at the improvements of our output," remarked Mr. Brown. "We have standards in every form of manufacture, required standards; and to label an article incorrectly is a misdemeanor."
"That was just starting in the pure-food agitation, you remember," my sister put in—('with apple juice containing one-tenth of one per cent, of benzoate of soda').
"And now," Mr. Brown continued, "'all wool' is all wool; if it isn't, you can have the dealer arrested. Silk is silk, nowadays, and cream is cream."
"And 'caveat emptor' is a dead letter?"
"Yes, it is 'caveat vendor' now. You see, selling goods is public service."