I never imagined so much mildness could be put into such offensive words as Cyril managed to get into his answer. “We accuse you of not paying, and we do not mean that you shall become chargeable to us. The men and women who served you on shipboard have been put to work, and you must go to work, too.”
“Mr. Thrall—Lord Moors—have you allowed these people to treat you as if you were part of the ship's crew? Why don't you give them what they want and let them go? Of course it's some sort of blackmailing scheme. But you ought to get rid of them at any cost. Then you can appeal to the authorities, and tell them that you will bring the matter to the notice of the government at Washington. They must be taught that they cannot insult American citizens with impunity.” No one spoke, and she added, “What do they really want?”
“Well, my dear,” her husband hesitated, “I hardly know how to explain. But it seems that they think our living here in the way we do is orderly, and—and they want us to go to work, in short.”
“To work!” she shouted.
“Yes, all of us. That is, so I understand.”
“What nonsense!”
She looked at us one after another, and when her eye rested on me, I began to suspect that insolent as she was she was even duller; in fact, that she was so sodden in her conceit of wealth that she was plain stupid. So when she said to me, “You are an American by birth, I believe. Can you tell me the meaning of this?” I answered:
“Cyril Chrysostom represents the authorities. If he asks me to speak, I will speak.” Cyril nodded at me with a smile, and I went on. “It is a very simple matter. In Altruria everybody works with his hands three hours a day. After that he works or not, as he likes.”
“What have we to do with that?” she asked.
“The rule has no exceptions.”