"Why, I understood him to say that if America meant anything at all it
meant the honor of work, but that you distinguished and did not honor some
kinds of work so much as others; for instance, domestic service, or
personal attendance of any kind."
The banker laughed again. "Oh, he drew the line there, did he? Well, we
all have to draw the line somewhere. Our friend is a novelist, and I will
tell you in strict confidence that the line he has drawn is imaginary. We
don't honor any kind of work any more than any other people. If a fellow
gets up, the papers make a great ado over his having been a woodchopper or
a bobbin-boy, or something of that kind, but I doubt if the fellow himself
likes it; he doesn't if he's got any sense. The rest of us feel that it's
_infra dig._, and hope nobody will find out that we ever worked with our
hands for a living. I'll go further," said the banker, with the effect of
whistling prudence down the wind, "and I will challenge any of you to
gainsay me from his own experience or observation. How does esteem usually
express itself? When we wish, to honor a man, what do we do?"
"Ask him to dinner," said the lawyer.
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