James.  I stand in front of ’im when the scrap begins!

Poulder.  Do you insinuate that my heart’s not in the right place?

James.  Well, look at it!  It’s been creepin’ down ever since I knew you.  Talk of your sacrifices in the war—­they put you on your honour, and you got stout on it.  Rations—­not ’arf.

Poulder. [Staring at him] For independence, I’ve never seen your equal, James.  You might be an Australian.

James. [Suavely] Keep a civil tongue, or I’ll throw you to the crowd! [He comes forward to the table] Shall I tell you why I favour the gov’nor?  Because, with all his pomp, he’s a gentleman, as much as I am.  Never asks you to do what he wouldn’t do himself.  What’s more, he never comes it over you.  If you get drunk, or—­well, you understand me, Poulder—­he’ll just say:  “Yes, yes; I know, James!” till he makes you feel he’s done it himself. [Sinking his voice mysteriously] I’ve had experience with him, in the war and out.  Why he didn’t even hate the Huns, not as he ought.  I tell you he’s no Christian.

Poulder.  Well, for irreverence——!

James. [Obstinately] And he’ll never be.  He’s got too soft a heart.

L. Anne. [Beneath the table-shrilly] Hurrah!

Poulder. [Jumping] Come out, Miss Anne!

James.  Let ’er alone!

Poulder.  In there, under the bomb?

James. [Contemptuously] Silly ass!  You should take ’em lying down!

Poulder.  Look here, James!  I can’t go on in this revolutionary spirit; either you or I resign.

James.  Crisis in the Cabinet!

Poulder.  I give you your marchin’ orders.

James. [Ineffably] What’s that you give me?

Poulder.  Thomas, remove James!

     [Thomas grins.]

L. Anne. [Who, with open mouth, has crept out to see the fun] Oh! 
Do remove James, Thomas!

Poulder.  Go on, Thomas.

     [Thomas takes one step towards James, who lays a hand on the
     Chinese mat covering the bomb.]

James. [Grimly] If I lose control of meself.

L. Anne. [Clapping her hands] Oh!  James!  Do lose control!  Then I shall see it go off!

James. [To Poulder] Well, I’ll merely empty the pail over you!

Poulder.  This is not becomin’!

     [He walks out into the hall.]

James.  Another strategic victory!  What a Boche he’d have made.  As you were, Tommy!

     [Thomas returns to the door.  The sound of prolonged applause
     cornea from within.]

That’s a bishop.

L. Anne.  Why?

James.  By the way he’s drawin’.  It’s the fine fightin’ spirit in ‘em.  They were the backbone o’ the war.  I see there’s a bit o’ the old stuff left in you, Tommy.