"Well, my dear," said Wilbur as they left the house, "that was a sort of Arabian Nights entertainment for us, wasn't it? A little barbaric, but handsome and well intentioned. I hope it didn't shock you too much."
"It struck me as very pleasant, Wilbur. I think I am beginning to understand New York a little better. Every thing costs so much here that it seems necessary to make money, doesn't it? I don't see exactly how poor people get along. Do you know, Mr. Williams wished to bet me a pair of gloves that you buy stocks sometimes."
"He would have lost his bet."
"So I told him at once. But he didn't seem to believe me. I was sure you never did. He appears to be very successful; but I let him see that I knew it was gambling. You consider it gambling, don't you?"
"Not quite so bad as that. Some stock-brokers are gamblers; but the occupation of buying and selling stocks for a commission is a well recognized and fashionable business."
"Mr. Williams thinks that a great many Americans make money in stocks—that we are gamblers as a nation."
"I am, in my heart, of the same opinion."
"Oh, Wilbur. I find you are not so good a patriot as I supposed."
"I hate bunkum."
"What is that?"