Lemmy.  Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of everyfink.  Never disappynted, can afford to ’ave me smile under the blackest sky.  When deaf is squeezin’ of me windpipe, I shall ’ave a laugh in it!  Fact is, if yer’ve ‘ad to do wiv gas an’ water pipes, yer can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] ’Ark at the revolution!

Lord W. [Rather desperately] I know—­hunger and all the rest of it! 
And here am I, a rich man, and don’t know what the deuce to do.

Lemmy.  Well, I’ll tell yer.  Throw yer cellars open, an’ while the populyce is gettin’ drunk, sell all yer ‘ave an’ go an’ live in Ireland; they’ve got the millennium chronic over there.

     [Lord William utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk
     about.]

That’s speakin’ as a practical man.  Speakin’ as a synt “Bruvvers, all I ‘ave is yours.  To-morrer I’m goin’ dahn to the Lybour Exchynge to git put on the wytin’ list, syme as you!”

Lord W. But, d—–­it, man, there we should be, all together!  Would that help?

Lemmy.  Nao; but it’d syve a lot o’ blood.

     [Lord William stops abruptly, and looks first at Lemmy, then at
     the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.]

Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety.  Not ’im!  Once yer git ’im into an ’abit, yer cawn’t git ’im out of it agyne.  ‘E’ll go on sheddin’ blood mechanical—­Conservative by nyture.  An’ ‘e won’t myke nuffin’ o’ yours.  Not even the Press wiv ’is ’oneyed words’ll sty ’is ’and.

Lord W. And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid trouble?

Lemmy. [Warming to his theme] I’ll tell yer.  If all you wealfy nobs wiv kepitel ’ad come it kind from the start after the war yer’d never ’a been ‘earin’ the Marseillaisy naow.  Lord!  ’Ow you did talk abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country.  Noo spirit!  Why, soon as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it inside, wiv an iron’and.  Naow, you’ve been in the war an’ it’s given yer a feelin’ ’eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or too important to fight.  They weren’t born agyne.  So naow that bad times is come, we’re ‘owlin’ for their blood.

Lord W. I quite agree; I quite agree.  I’ve often said much the same thing.

Lemmy.  Voice cryin’ in the wilderness—­I daon’t sy we was yngels—­ there was faults on bofe sides. [He looks at the press] The Press could ha’ helped yer a lot.  Shall I tell yer wot the Press did?  “It’s vital,” said the Press, “that the country should be united, or it will never recover.”  Nao strikes, nao ’omen nature, nao nuffink.  Kepitel an’ Lybour like the Siamese twins.  And, fust dispute that come along, the Press orfs wiv its coat an’ goes at it bald’eaded.