“That is the modern doctrine, I believe,” said Rupert.
“Surely that is an extreme statement,” said Dr. Templeton, in a shocked voice, “or you are talking of the very radical element only.”
“The Rads lead, of course, but you would be surprised at the demands made to-day. Why, I heard a young chap last week, a soap-box artist, denouncing all capitalists as parasites. 'Why should we work for anyone but ourselves?' he was saying. 'Why don't we take charge of the factories and run them for the general good?' I assure you, sir, those were his very words.”
“Really, Rupert, you amaze me. In Blackwater here?” exclaimed Dr. Templeton.
“But, my dear papa, that sort of thing is the commonplace of Hyde Park, you know,” said Adrien, “and—”
“Ah, Hyde Park, yes. I should expect that sort of thing from the Hyde Park orators. You get every sort of mad doctrine in Hyde Park, as I remember it, but—”
“And I was going to say that that sort of thing has got away beyond Hyde Park. Why, papa dear, you have been so engrossed in your Higher Mathematics that you have failed to keep up with the times.” His eldest daughter smiled at him and, reaching across the corner of the table, patted his hand affectionately. “We are away beyond being shocked at profit sharing, and even sharing in control of administration and that sort of thing.”
“But there remains justice, I hope,” said her father, “and the right of ownership.”
“Ah, that's just it—what is ownership?”
“Oh, come, Adrien,” said Rupert, “you are not saying that Mr. Maitland doesn't own his factory and mill.”