“Yes, they’re quarrelling over the division of the earnings of the street railways.”
Bishop Morehouse became excited.
“It is wrong!” he cried. “It is so short-sighted on the part of the workingmen. How can they hope to keep our sympathy—”
“When we are compelled to walk,” Ernest said slyly.
But Bishop Morehouse ignored him and went on:
“Their outlook is too narrow. Men should be men, not brutes. There will be violence and murder now, and sorrowing widows and orphans. Capital and labor should be friends. They should work hand in hand and to their mutual benefit.”
“Ah, now you are up in the air again,” Ernest remarked dryly. “Come back to earth. Remember, we agreed that the average man is selfish.”
“But he ought not to be!” the Bishop cried.
“And there I agree with you,” was Ernest’s rejoinder. “He ought not to be selfish, but he will continue to be selfish as long as he lives in a social system that is based on pig-ethics.”
The Bishop was aghast, and my father chuckled.