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.  An’ wot abaht since?  Sich a riot o’ nymes called, in Press—­and Pawlyement.  Unpatriotic an’ outrygeous demands o’ lybour.  Blood-suckin’ tyranny o’ Kepitel; thieves an’ dawgs an ’owlin Jackybines—­gents throwin’ books at each other; all the resources of edjucytion exhausted!  If I’d bin Prime Minister I’d ’ave ’ad the Press’s gas cut ’orf at the meter.  Puffect liberty, of course, nao Censorship; just sy wot yer like—­an’ never be ’eard of no more.

     [Turning suddenly to the press, who has been scribbling in pace
     with this harangue, and now has developed a touch of writer’s
     cramp.]

Why!  ’Is ‘end’s out o’ breath!  Fink o’ vet!

Lord W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. Lemmy!

[A sudden stir of applause and scraping of chairs is heard; the meeting is evidently breaking up.  Lady William comes in, followed by Mrs. Lemmy with her trousers, and little Aida.  Lemmy stares fixedly at this sudden, radiant apparition.  His gaze becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake.  And suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes his brow.]

     [Lady William, going to the table, lifts one end of the Chinese
     mat, and looks at Lemmy.  Then she turns to lord William.]

Lady W. Bill!

Lemmy. [To his mother—­in a hoarse whisper] She calls ’im Bill. 
’Ow!  ’Yn’t she it?

Lady W. [Apart] Have you—­spoken to him?

     [Lord William shakes his head.]

Not?  What have you been saying, then?

Lord W. Nothing, he’s talked all the time.