No one moved.
"Or does anybody want any more of the shredded tan bark? No? Or will somebody have another spoonful of sunflower seeds?"
There was still no sign of assent.
"Very well, then," said Mr. Bryan, "the banquet, as such, is over, and we now come to the more serious part of our business. I need hardly tell you that we are here for a serious purpose. We are here to do good. That I know is enough to enlist the ardent sympathy of everybody present."
There was a murmur of assent.
"Personally," said The Lady Pacifist, "I do nothing else."
"Neither do I," said the guest who has been designated The Philanthropist, "whether I am producing oil, or making steel, or building motor-cars."
"Does he build motor-cars?" whispered the humble person called The Man in the Street to his fellow, The General Public.
"All great philanthropists do things like that," answered his friend. "They do it as a social service so as to benefit humanity; any money they make is just an accident. They don't really care about it a bit. Listen to him. He's going to say so."
"Indeed, our business itself," The Philanthropist continued, while his face lighted up with unselfish enthusiasm, "our business itself—"