"A lexicon? What's a lexicon?"
"It's a book that tells you how to spell words, and tells you what they mean."
Élise looked superior.
"I know how to spell words, and I know what they mean, too, without looking in a—. What did you call it?"
"Lexicon. I thought you just said you knew what words meant."
"I didn't mean big words, just words that common folks use."
"You aren't common folks, are you?"
"That's just what I am," Élise answered, aggressively, "and we aren't ashamed of it, either. We're just as good as anybody," she ended, with a toss of her head.
"Oh, thanks." Firmstone laughed. "I'm common folks, too."
"No, you aren't. You're a minion. M'sieu Mo-reeson says so. You're a capitalistic hireling sent out here to oppress the poor workingman. You use long tape-lines to measure up, and short rods to measure holes, and you sneak in the mill at night, and go prying round the mine, and posting notices, and—er—oh, lots of things. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." She paused in breathless indignation, looking defiantly at Firmstone.