When he has arrived opposite the residential hotel which raises the colossal offence of its eleven stories between the elm-trees and their right to air and light he sits down, feeling rather limp and aimless; and lighting a cigarette, he awaits the coming of Fanshawe. There is a policeman close at hand; some children are near, with their nurses; and a respectable-looking, middle-aged, brisk woman, with some fine linen in a flat basket, is approaching. He raises his hat to her. “Is that you, Mrs. Brown? I never saw you in the Park before.” “No, sir, I don’t often come nigh fine folks,” answers Mrs. Brown. “But I’ve got to go to Prince’s Gate, number fifteen, and I turned in ’ere ’cos the traffic’s that crowded on the ’igh-road; ’is ’Ighness is agoin’ down to ’Ounslow.” “Oh, to be sure. How are your people this morning?” “My pore legs, sir, be as bad as ever--but there, we pore folks can’t stop for aches and pains, or we’d never do naught in this ’ere world; ’twasn’t made for the likes of us.” “That is a sad reflection. But pray don’t say ‘sir’ to me.” “It comes nat’ral, sir. I hev allus been one as did my humble duty to the quality.” “Oh, I know! It is this terrible servility which has entered like blood-poisoning into the very marrow of the people.” The policeman standing near listening grins behind his white-gloved hand. “You are so used to stoop and cringe that you have lost the power to stand upright when you are invited to do so,” says Bertram, impatiently. “Where is your daughter?” “Annie’s at Ealing, sir. It’s Primrose Day to-morrow.” “And what is your opinion of Primrose Day, Mrs. Brown?” “Well, sir, it’s got ’em lots o’ votes, but it do seem to me a pack o’ folly. No offence.” “And the Primrose Dames, Mrs. Brown?” “Well, sir, they’re a pretty spry lot o’ ladies, and they come and talk, talk, talk, and me at the mangle, and I wish ’em anywheres; and one o’ ’em promised to have my kitchen boiler looked to, but, Lord! that’s three months ago come Monday was a week, and nobody’s come to the boiler.” “The Conservative party always forgets the boilers; and are extremely astonished when the neglected boilers blow up.”