“It's in the way the men feel. Of course,” he hastily explained, “that's a childish way to put it. At college a man belongs to the college twenty-four hours a day. If he makes one of the teams or the crew, it's fine. But if he doesn't, so long as the college wins he is tickled to death. I suppose at college a fellow has no family cares and—well, it is complicated, isn't it?” And Tommy smiled helplessly at Mr. Thompson.
“Tell me some more, Tommy,” said Mr. Thompson.
Tommy, still thinking of differences, went on, bravely indifferent to whether or not he was talking wisely.
“I rather think here a man's duty is fixed too—too—well, too mathematically. The exact reward of efficiency is fixed for him in advance. It keeps the company and the men apart. The college is equally the undergraduates and the faculty and the alumni and—It's hard to make myself understood. I hadn't thought about this particular—”
“Never mind all that, Tommy. What else can you think of now?”
“I think the men don't belong entirely to the shop because the shop doesn't belong entirely to them.”
“Do you want them to be the owners?”
“No, not the owners of the property, but to feel—”
“Hold on. How can they be owners and not owners?”
“Well, if you could find some way by which the owner also could be a laborer and the laborer also an owner, I think you'd come close to solving the problem.”