My lady, Fröken Nordstern—which, being interpreted, means Miss North Star—boarded the train at Gothenburg. Her air told me on the instant that she was a kindred spirit, so I responded as cordially as possible to her pleasant “God morgon.” After that it was easy to find an excuse for conversation. I soon found that the fröken was wide-awake and interested in the best things of the present, and zealous to contribute her share to the onward and upward progress of humanity. She spoke English very well; therefore, with my mongrel Scandinavian—which she was so good as to call Swedish—we had ample linguistic media for the expression of our thoughts.
We had exchanged remarks upon the subject of Gothenburg, where she is at the head of a small business house, and had branched out slightly in other directions, when she suddenly turned to me and announced that she would like to ask some rather personal questions. As I liked her, I replied that I was willing, and she proceeded.
Was I a vegetarian?
Theoretically, I stated, I was; the thought of devouring my fellow animals for food was abhorrent to me; but actually I was carnivorous in my habits—a piece of inconsistency made possible by dwarfed powers of imagination.
Was I interested in the peace movement?
Yes.
Did I belong to some organization working to banish from the earth the possibility of nation taking up arms against nation?
No; but I was a teacher of history, and I never lost an opportunity to point out the superiority of plowshares to swords and pruning hooks to spears.
Why didn’t I belong to a peace society? Did I not think that I could be more useful to the cause of peace if I belonged to an organization?
I had never given the matter serious thought, I replied.