James. [Between him and the table—­raising himself] Thinkin’.

     [Poulder purses his mouth to repress his feedings.]

Poulder.  My orders are to fetch the bomb up here for Lady William to inspect.  Take care no more writers stray in.

James.  How shall I know ’em?

Poulder.  Well—­either very bald or very hairy.

James.  Right-o! [He goes.]

     [Poulder, with his back to the table, busies himself with the
     set of his collar.]

Poulder. [Addressing an imaginary audience—­in a low but important voice] The—­ah—­situation is seerious.  It is up to us of the—­ah—­ leisured classes——­

     [The face of little Anne is poked out close to his legs, and
     tilts upwards in wonder towards the bow of his waistcoat.]

to—­ah—­keep the people down.  The olla polloi are clamourin’——­

     [Miss Stokes appears from the hall, between the pillars.]

Miss S. Poulder!

Poulder. [Making a volte face towards the table] Miss?

Miss S. Where is Anne?

Poulder. [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech] Excuse me, Miss—­ to keep track of Miss Anne is fortunately no part of my dooties.

     [Miss S. She really is naughty.]

Poulder.  She is.  If she was mine, I’d spank her.

     [The smiling face of little Anne becomes visible again close to
     his legs.]

Miss S. Not a nice word.

Poulder.  No; but a pleasant haction.  Miss Anne’s the limit.  In fact, Lord and Lady William are much too kind ’earted all round.  Take these sweated workers; that class o’ people are quite ’opeless.  Treatin’ them as your equals, shakin ’ands with ’em, givin ’em tea—­ it only puffs ’em out.  Leave it to the Church, I say.

Miss S. The Church is too busy, Poulder.

Poulder.  Ah!  That “Purity an’ Future o’ the Race Campaign.”  I’ll tell you what I thinks the danger o’ that, Miss.  So much purity that there won’t be a future race. [Expanding] Purity of ’eart’s an excellent thing, no doubt, but there’s a want of nature about it.  Same with this Anti-Sweating.  Unless you’re anxious to come down, you must not put the lower classes up.

Miss S. I don’t agree with you at all, Poulder.

Poulder.  Ah!  You want it both ways, Miss.  I should imagine you’re a Liberal.

Miss S. [Horrified] Oh, no!  I certainly am not.

Poulder.  Well, I judged from your takin’ cocoa.  Funny thing that, about cocoa-how it still runs through the Liberal Party!  It’s virtuous, I suppose.  Wine, beer, tea, coffee-all of ’em vices.  But cocoa you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but yourself!  There’s a lot o’ deep things in life, Miss!