criticise,” I said, “from your point of view; but I hope you won't think it indiscreet if I ask a few questions?”
She laughed. “Ask anything, Mr. Homos! I hope I got hardened to your questions in the mountains.”
“She said you used to get off some pretty tough ones,” said her husband, helpless to take his eyes from her, although he spoke to me.
“It is about your servants,” I began.
“Oh, of course! Perfectly characteristic! Go on.”
“You told me that they had no natural light either in the kitchen or their bedroom. Do they never see the light of day?”
The lady laughed heartily. “The waitress is in the front of the house several hours every morning at her work, and they both have an afternoon off once a week. Some people only let them go once a fortnight; but I think they are human beings as well as we are, and I let them go every week.”
“But, except for that afternoon once a week, your cook lives in electric-light perpetually?”
“Electric-light is very healthy, and it doesn't heat the air!” the lady triumphed, “I can assure you that she thinks she's very well off; and so she is.” I felt a little temper in her voice, and I was silent, until she asked me, rather stiffly, “Is there any other inquiry you would like to make?”
“Yes,” I said, “but I do not think you would like it.”
“Now, I assure you, Mr. Homos, you were never more mistaken in your life. I perfectly delight in your naïveté. I know that the Altrurians don't think as we do about some things, and I don't expect it. What is it you would like to ask?”
“Well, why should you require your servants to go down on a different elevator from yourselves?”
“Why, good gracious!” cried the lady.—“aren't they different from us in every way? To be sure, they dress up in their ridiculous best when they go out, but you couldn't expect us to let them use the front elevator? I don't want to go up and down with my own cook, and I certainly don't with my neighbor's cook!”
“Yes, I suppose you
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