“Thanks!” said Chalender, destroying the insult by accepting it as a compliment. “But let me have a look at your Bronx, won’t you? As an engineer it fascinates me. It is the real reason for my visit to-day.”
This thin duplicity made even Patty blush. RoBards bowed:
“Our sacred Bandusian font is always open for inspection, but it’s really not for sale.”
“Not even to save New York from depopulation?”
“That would be a questionable service to the world,” RoBards grumbled. “The town is overgrown already past the island’s power to support. Two hundred thousand is more than enough. Let the people get out of the pest-hole into the country and till the farms.”
“You are merciless to us poor cits. No, my dear RoBards, what New York wants she will take. She is the city of destiny. Some day the whole island will be one swarm up to the Harlem, and it will have a gigantic thirst. Doesn’t the Bible say something about the blessedness of him who gives a cup of water to the least of these? Think what blessings will fall on the head of him who brings gallons of water to every man Jack in the greatest of American cities! Quench New York’s thirst and you will check the plagues and the fevers that hold her back from supremacy.”
“Her supremacy will do the world no good. It will only make her a little more vicious; give crime and every evil a more comfortable home.”
“Is there no wickedness up here in Arcadia?”
“None compared to the foulness of the Five Points.”
“Isn’t that because there is almost nobody up here to be wicked—or to be wicked with?”