“Wot’s four poun’ ten?” he continued. “’Ow far does that go? ‘Ho,’ they says, ‘but look at wot you ’ad before the War. Why, we’ve doubled your pay,’ they says. Per’aps. But wot they don’ say is, ‘An’ we’re chargin’ you double, too, for the necesserities of life.’ An’ you ask if there’s blussuggy goanon.” “But surely,” said Bob, “it ain’t the blokes as pays the wages as shoves the prices up. They ’as to fork out, too.” Mr. Allen braced himself. “So they says,” he said darkly. “That’s their bettle-cry. But it’s a deliberate ’ave. They’re all in league, they are. The rich man’s ’and is agains’ the pore, an’ always ’as been.” He smote upon the table. “Walk down Bon’ Street, brother, an’ take a look at the cars. See ’ow the idle rich lives an’ moves an’ ’as their vile bein’. Caount the Rolls-Royce.” He paused dramatically. “But don’t you go gettin’ in their way. You may ’ave ’elped to pave it wiv blood an’ teers, but it’s not your street—’cause you’re only a common man.” There was a frightful silence. Suddenly May burst into ecstatic laughter. Mr. Allen, who was about to drink, stared at her, tumbler in hand. As the transport subsided, he set down his glass. “An’ wot ’ave I said,” he demanded, “that you fin’ so ’ighly divertin’?” “Oh, nothin’,” said May, looking to the cornice, as though for help to fight her mirth. “I was only laughin’ at me thoughts.” She hesitated. Then, “I ’appened to pass the same remarks this afternoon—_an’ got ticked orf for them_.” Uncle Tom shifted in his chair. “You said your granpa was a common man,” he said uneasily. “You said——” “I said ’e wasn’t a nurl,” retorted May. “An’ you said it wasn’ for me to speak disrespec’ful of urls ’cause I wasn’ a lady born, an’ you’ld rather ’ave the opinion of a _nurl’s daughter_ than your own’s any day.” Before Uncle Tom could focus this perversion sufficiently to discern the lie upon which a distasteful knowledge of his first-born told him it was depending— “A nurl’s daughter?” said Mr. Allen, glaring at Ann. “Oh, that’s all over,” said Aunt Harriet nervously. “She’s one of us now. After all, burf’s an acciden’.” “Oh, she’s one of us, of course,” said May. She laughed spitefully. “I’m sure it’s a privilege—the way she shares our food an’ gentlemen friends.” Her voice began to quiver. “An’ I’m sure she’ld ’ve brought ’er Rolls-Royce coopy down—if she’d ’appened to think of it.” Mr. Allen’s forehead and cheeks approached the colour of his nose. He began to breathe stertorously. “Rolls-Royce?” he said hoarsely. He pointed a shaking finger. Instinctively Ann recoiled. “She ’as a Rolls-Royce? An’ I’ve been breakin’ bread at the same table wiv one ooze fathers ’as graoun’ the pore to ’eap up riches?” He threw himself forward. “Where’s yer Rolls-Royce come from? Aout of the pennies earned by toilin’ slaves. Aout of——” “’Ere, shut yer face,” said Bob, rising. “Wot d’you know about it? Jus’ ’cause she’s a lady——” Mr. Allen started to his feet.