“Who is that?”
“One of the boarders; young lady that works in the fact’ry.”
“She works in a factory?”
“Yes. Shoe factory.”
“In a shoe factory; and you call her a young lady?”
“Why, she’s only twenty-two; what should you call her?”
“I wasn’t thinking of her age, I was thinking of the title. The fact is, I came away from England to get away from artificial forms—for artificial forms suit artificial people only—and here you’ve got them too. I’m sorry. I hoped you had only men and women; everybody equal; no differences in rank.”
The girl stopped with a pillow in her teeth and the case spread open below it, contemplating him from under her brows with a slightly puzzled expression. She released the pillow and said:
“Why, they are all equal. Where’s any difference in rank?”
“If you call a factory girl a young lady, what do you call the President’s wife?”