Theft | Page 6

profits. That is why I like Howard Knox. He calls theft theft. He is trying to do something for those children. What are you trying to do for them?
{Starkweather}
Sentiment. Sentiment. The question is too vast and complicated, and you cannot understand. No woman can understand. That is why you run to sentiment. That is what is the matter with this Knox--sentiment. You can't run a government of ninety millions of people on sentiment, nor on abstract ideas of justice and right.
{Margaret}
But if you eliminate justice and right, what remains?
{Starkweather}
This is a practical world, and it must be managed by practical men--by thinkers, not by near-thinkers whose heads are addled with the half-digested ideas of the French Encyclopedists and Revolutionists of a century and a half ago.
(Margaret shows signs of impatience--she is not particularly perturbed by this passage-at-arms with her father, and is anxious to get off her street things.)
Don't forget, my daughter, that your father knows the books as well as any cow college graduate from Oregon. I, too, in my student days, dabbled in theories of universal happiness and righteousness, saw my vision and dreamed my dream. I did not know then the weakness, and frailty, and grossness of the human clay. But I grew out of that and into a man. Some men never grow out of that stage. That is what is the trouble with Knox. He is still a dreamer, and a dangerous one.
(He pauses a moment, and then his thin lips shut grimly. But he has just about shot his bolt.)
{Margaret}
What do you mean?
{Starkweather}
He has let himself in to give a speech to-morrow, wherein he will be called upon to deliver the proofs of all the lurid charges he has made against the Administration--against us, the stewards of wealth if you please. He will be unable to deliver the proofs, and the nation will laugh. And that will be the political end of Mr. Ali Baba and his dream.
{Margaret}
It is a beautiful dream. Were there more like him the dream would come true. After all, it is the dreamers that build and that never die. Perhaps you will find that he is not so easily to be destroyed. But I can't stay and argue with you, father. I simply must go and get my things off.
(To Connie.) You'll have to receive, dear. I'll be right back.
(Julius Rutland enters. Margaret advances to meet him, shaking his hand.) You must forgive me for deserting for a moment.
{Rutland}
(Greeting the others.) A family council, I see.
{Margaret}
(On way to exit at rear.) No; a discussion on dreams and dreamers. I leave you to bear my part.
{Rutland}
(Bowing.) With pleasure. The dreamers are the true architects. But--a--what is the dream and who is the dreamer?
{Margaret}
(Pausing in the doorway.) The dream of social justice, of fair play and a square deal to everybody. The dreamer--Mr. Knox.
(Rutland is so patently irritated, that Margaret lingers in the doorway to enjoy.)
{Rutland}
That man! He has insulted and reviled the Church--my calling. He--
{Connie}
(Interrupting.) He said the churchmen stole from God. I remember he once said there had been only one true Christian and that He died on the Cross.
{Margaret}
He quoted that from Nietzsche.
{Starkweather}
(To Rutland, in quiet glee.) He had you there.
{Rutland}
(In composed fury.) Nietzsche is a blasphemer, sir. Any man who reads Nietzsche or quotes Nietzsche is a blasphemer. It augurs ill for the future of America when such pernicious literature has the vogue it has.
{Margaret}
(Interrupting, laughing.) I leave the quarrel in your hands, sir knight. Remember--the dreamer and the dream. (Margaret makes exit.)
{Rutland}
(Shaking his head.) I cannot understand what is coming over the present generation. Take your daughter, for instance. Ten years ago she was an earnest, sincere lieutenant of mine in all our little charities.
{Starkweather}
Has she given charity up?
{Connie}
It's settlement work, now, and kindergartens.
{Rutland}
(Ominously.) It's writers like Nietzsche, and men who read him, like Knox, who are responsible.
(Senator Dowsett and Mrs. Dowsett enter from rear.)
(Connie advances to greet them. Rutland knows Mrs. Dowsett, and Connie introduces him to Senator Dowsett.)
(In the meantime, not bothering to greet anybody, evincing his own will and way, Starkweather goes across to right front, selects one of several chairs, seats himself, pulls a thin note-book from inside coat pocket, and proceeds to immerse himself in contents of same.) (Dowsett and Rutland pair and stroll to left rear and seat themselves, while Connie and Mrs. Dowsett seat themselves at tea-table to left front. Connie rings the bell for Servant.)
{Mrs. Dowsett}
(Glancing significantly at Starkweather, and speaking in a low voice.) That's your father, isn't it? I have so wanted to meet him.
{Connie} (Softly.) You know he's peculiar. He is liable to ignore everybody here this afternoon, and get up and go away abruptly, without saying good-bye.
{Mrs. Dowsett}
(Sympathetically. ) Yes, I know, a man of such large affairs. He must have so much on