Then we opened the discussion. Janet suggested that we begin with private theatricals for the poor.
“They need to have their minds taken off their troubles,” she said. “We cannot really better their condition. Perhaps we can divert their attention.”
The Altruist withheld his opinion of this idea. He did not wish to discourage Janet. It was partly in order to give her a practical interest that he had started the work. But an expression came into his face that made Janet whisper,—
“It really is not polite, Paul, to look bored when other people are talking.”
“We want to accomplish something that will be of permanent service,” he began. “Mere temporary distraction will not do. I thought that you three women would know how to bring them something of the graciousness and sweetness of your own lives.”
“How can we effect anything whatever,” asked the Doctor, “while those women live under the conditions in which they must live? They cannot even keep clean. It is absolutely impossible. Cleanliness is the most expensive luxury in the world. What beauty and graciousness can be brought into their lives so long as they cannot take baths?”
“We cannot correct at once,” the Altruist answered, “all the evil consequences of our present system. But we can bring these people into touch with higher spiritual ideals—”
“We can form clubs,” I hastened to say, wishing to appease the Doctor by means of a practical suggestion. “We can teach the women to sew, or we can have a literary club and teach them how to read.”
The Altruist’s face brightened.
“Yes,” he said, “these cruder methods open the way. When our neighbours understand that we want to meet them on the common ground of human brotherhood, that we ignore all class distinctions—”