Though the object of business is money-making, its essence is service. Facts in support of this conception face us on every hand. For example, follow through the day the most typical of all citizens, the suburbanite. A cook serves him with breakfast, his town with a sidewalk, an eager boy with a newspaper, an engineer with safe conduct to the city. “Bag carried, sir?” is his welcome there. Thereafter both necessities and luxuries are everywhere thrust upon him—collars, fish, custard pies, vacuum cleaners, pyramids of oranges and of apples vigorously shone on anonymous trousers. A street car takes him to his office-building, an elevator to his office, cleaned for him in the cheerless hours of darkness by a woman on hands and knees. Throughout the day a stenographer and office-boy do his bidding. At lunch a restaurant serves him. When evening comes, superabundant theatres seek to entertain him. No socialist, however ardent, can conceive greater eagerness to serve. The very streets are congested with people bent on serving one another. The activities produced by charitable agencies are in volume as nothing by comparison. There is, however, a stern condition. The recipient of this service must pay for it. With rare exceptions, ability to pay can come only from the recompenses of service. The service of business is reciprocal.