Mayor.  Morning, Builder, morning.

Harris.  Good-morning, Sir.

Builder.  Sit down-sit down!  Have a cigar!

     The Mayor takes a cigar Harris a cigarette from his own case.

Builder.  Well, Mayor, what’s gone wrong with the works?

     He and Harris exchange a look.

Mayor. [With his first puff] After you left the Council the other day,
Builder, we came to a decision.

Builder.  Deuce you did!  Shall I agree with it?

Mayor.  We shall see.  We want to nominate you for Mayor.  You willin’ to stand?

Builder. [Stolid] That requires consideration.

Mayor.  The only alternative is Chantrey; but he’s a light weight, and rather too much County.  What’s your objection?

Builder.  It’s a bit unexpected, Mayor. [Looks at Harris] Am I the right man?  Following you, you know.  I’m shooting with Chantrey to-morrow.  What does he feel about it?

Mayor.  What do you say, ’Arris?

Harris.  Mr Chantrey’s a public school and University man, Sir; he’s not what I call ambitious.

Builder.  Nor am I, Harris.

Harris.  No, sir; of course you’ve a high sense of duty.  Mr Chantrey’s rather dilettante.

Mayor.  We want a solid man.

Builder.  I’m very busy, you know, Mayor.

Mayor.  But you’ve got all the qualifications—­big business, family man, live in the town, church-goer, experience on the Council and the Bench.  Better say “yes,” Builder.

Builder.  It’s a lot of extra work.  I don’t take things up lightly.

Mayor.  Dangerous times, these.  Authority questioned all over the place.  We want a man that feels his responsibilities, and we think we’ve got him in you.

Builder.  Very good of you, Mayor.  I don’t know, I’m sure.  I must think of the good of the town.

Harris.  I shouldn’t worry about that, sir.

Mayor.  The name John Builder carries weight.  You’re looked up to as a man who can manage his own affairs.  Madam and the young ladies well?

Builder.  First-rate.

Mayor. [Rises] That’s right.  Well, if you’d like to talk it over with Chantrey to-morrow.  With all this extremism, we want a man of principle and common sense.

Harris.  We want a man that’ll grasp the nettle, sir—­and that’s you.

Builder.  Hm!  I’ve got a temper, you know.

Mayor. [Chuckling] We do—­we do!  You’ll say “yes,” I see.  No false modesty!  Come along, ’Arris, we must go.

Builder.  Well, Mayor, I’ll think it over, and let you have an answer.  You know my faults, and you know my qualities, such as they are.  I’m just a plain Englishman.