Mr. G. Jest what my old woman sez.  I’ve learnt her not to argy with me on politics.  But, yer see, a deal depends on the way a thing is done, and—­(insinuatingly)—­a good-lookin’ woman liks yourself—­(Lady N. gasps out a faint little “Oh!” here)—­oh, I’m on’y tellin’ yer what yer know already—­’ud find it easy enough to get her better ’alf to vote her way, if she chooses.  You take him some evenin’—­say a Saturday, now—­when he’s jest ’ad enough to feel ’appy, and coax him into giving his vote to QUELCH. You know ’ow to do it!  And he’s the right man, mind yer, QUELCH is—­the right man!

Lady N. (almost inaudibly).  How—­how dare you come into my house, and offer me this impertinent advice!  How—?

Mr. G. (good-temperedly).  Easy there, Lady—­no impertinence intended, I’m sure.  I shouldn’t come in ‘ere, intrudin’ on the sacred privacy of the British ’Ome, which I’m quite aware an Englishman’s ’Ouse is his Castle—­and rightly so—­if I didn’t feel privileged like.  I’m canvassing, I am!

Lady N. You are taking a most unpardonable liberty, and, if you have the slightest sense of decency—­

Mr. G. (imploringly).  Now look ’ere—­don’t let us ’ave a vulgar row over this!  I ain’t goin’ to lose my temper.  Strike—­but ’ear me!  If we don’t think alike, there’s no reason why you and me should fall out.  I put that to you.  It’s likely enough you don’t know JOE QUELCH?

Lady N. (with temper).  I never heard of the man in my life!

Mr. G. (triumphantly).  See there, now.  That’s where canvassing comes in, d’yer see?  It’s our honly way of combating the hignirance and hapathy of the Upper Classes.  Well, I’ll tell yer somethink about ’im.  QUELCH worked as a lighterman on a barge fourteen years for eighteen bob a-week.  Ain’t that a Man of the People for yer?  And if he gits into Parliment, he’ll insist on Labour bein’ served fust; he’s in favour of Shortened Hours of Labour, Taxation o’ Ground Rents, One Man one Vote, Triannual Parliments and Payment o’ Members, Compulsory Allotments, Providin’ Work by Gov’ment for the Unemployed, Abolition o’ the ‘Ouse o’ Lords, and a Free Breakfast Table.  Ah, and he means ’aving it too.  That’s what JOE is.  But look ’ere, why not come and ’ear what he’s got to say for yerself?  He’s ‘oldin’ a small open-air meetin’ in Kipper’s Court this evenin’, ar-past eight percisely.  You come and bring yer ‘usban’, and I’ll guarantee you git a good place close to the cheer.  I’ll interdooce yer to him arterwards, and he’ll answer any questions yer like to arsk him—­fair and straight!

Lady N. (feebly).  Thank you very much; but—­but we are unfortunately dining out this evening, so I’m afraid—­