LESLIE. [_with energy._] I'm comfortable enough where I am. I've been telling this chap here he's a fool, but he won't believe me. He says he'd rather be a fool in the Colonies than a wise man here. Don't know what he means quite, but it sounds rather smart. [_Waving his pipe oracularly as he faces the three men._] I've known lots of chaps who've wanted to go. The guv'nor is unpleasant or there's too much overtime or they get jealous of their girl or something of that sort and off they must go. I've known a few who went--and sorry they were, too. You can't do anything out there. Read the emigration books, read your papers. Failure all along the line. Market overcrowded. Only capitalists need apply--the Colonies don't want you-- CHARLEY. Neither does England-- LESLIE. Of course not but [_waving his arm impressively_] but you're here and got something. That's the whole point. My advice is--stick where you are. Tennant's a stupid ass to give up a decent berth; he deserves to fail. Of course, we should all like to see the world. _I_ should-- TENNANT. It's more than that. CHARLEY. Yes, yes, you don't understand. It isn't the idea of travelling--it's because you want to feel--oh! [_He stretches out his arms._] I don't suppose you ever feel so-- LESLIE. Can't say I did. TENNANT. Aren't you ever sick of the thing, Leslie? CHARLEY. And don't you ever want to pitch all the ledgers into the dustbin and burn the stools? LESLIE. Never--though I've met many that have. I tell you, it's a good thing to have a safe berth nowadays. Many fellows would only be too glad to pick up Tennant's berth--or yours, Wilson. Think of the crowds that will answer the advertisement at Molesey's-- Last week our firm wanted a man to do overtime work, and they don't pay too high a rate--I can tell you. They had five hundred and fifteen applications--five hundred and fifteen! Think of that! And that's what would happen to you if you went, Wilson, and that'll be the end of Tennant. Sorry to be unpleasant--but truth-- TENNANT. But there's room on the land-- LESLIE. Land! What on earth can a bally clerk do with a spade? He'd be trying to stick it behind his ear-- _Shout of laughter from PERCY MASSEY._ He's got no muscle--he's got a back that would break if he stooped--he'd always have a cold in his nose-- CHARLEY. Shut it, Leslie. You can't call Tennant exactly anæmic. And look at this. [_He strips off his coat and turns back his shirt sleeves to display his arms._] How's that? _TENNANT looks on with interest. LESLIE comes near and pinches CHARLEY'S arm, while PERCY MASSEY looks on smilingly._ LESLIE. All right for a back garden. I suppose you think you're an authority on the land question 'cause you grow sweet peas?