But all the members of my own particular little group have entered into a solemn agreement not to take even so much as a cocktail or a glass of wine if any of the working classes happen to be about where they can see us and become corrupted by our example.
The Best People owe those sacrifices to the
Masses, don't you think?
Of course, the waiters, and people like that, really belong to the working classes too, I suppose.
But, as Fothergil Finch says, very often one wouldn't know it. And who could expect a waiter to be influenced one way or another by anything? And it's the home life of the working classes that counts, anyhow.
When we took up Sociology — we gave several evenings to Sociological Discussion, you know, besides doing a lot of practical Welfare Work — it was impressed upon me very strongly that if one is to do anything at all for the Masses one must first SWEETEN their Home Life.
Though Papa made me stop poking around into the horrid places where they live for fear I might catch some dreadful disease.
And the people we visited weren't all that grateful.
So VERY OFTEN the Masses are not.
One dreadful woman, you know, claimed that she couldn't keep her rooms — she had two rooms, and she cooked and washed and slept and sewed in them and there were five in the family — claimed that she couldn't keep her rooms in any better shape because they were so out of repair and the plumbing was bad and the windows leaked and all that sort of thing, you know, and one of the rooms was ENTIRELY dark.
I preached the doctrine of fresh air and sunshine and cleanliness to her, you know, and the imprudent thing told me Papa owned the building and it wasn't true at all — Papa only belonged to the company that owned the building. One can't do much for people who will not be truthful with one, can one?
Besides, it is the Silent Influence that counts more than arguments and visiting.