Thenceforward Mutimer went to Wilton Square regularly once a week. He let Adela know of this, saying casually one morning that he could not do something that day because his mother would expect him in the afternoon as usual. He half hoped that she might put some question which would lead to talk on the subject, for the reconciliation with his mother had brought about a change in his feelings, and it would now have been rather agreeable to him to exhibit his beautiful and gentle-mannered wife. But Adela merely accepted the remark. He threw himself into the work of agitation with more energy than ever. By this time he had elaborated a scheme which was original enough to ensure him notoriety if only he could advertise it sufficiently throughout the East End. He hit upon it one evening when he was smoking his pipe after dinner. Adela was in the room with him reading. He took her into his confidence at once. ‘I’ve got it at last! I want something that’ll attract their attention. It isn’t enough to preach theories to them; they won’t wake up; there’s no getting them to feel in earnest about Socialism. I’ve been racking my brain for something to set them talking, it didn’t much matter what, but better of course if it was useful in itself at the same time. Now I think I’ve got it. It’s a plan for giving them a personal interest, a money interest, in me and my ideas. I’ll go and say to them, “How is it you men never save any money even when you could? I’ll tell you: it’s because the savings would be so little that they don’t seem worth while; you think you might as well go and enjoy yourselves in the public-house while you can. What’s the use of laying up a few shillings? The money comes and goes, and it’s all in a life.” Very well, then, I’ll put my plan before them. “Now look here,” I’ll say, “instead of spending so much on beer and spirits, come to me and _let me keep your money for you_!” They’ll burst out laughing at me, and say, “Catch us doing that!” Yes, but I’ll persuade them, see if I don’t. And in this way. “Suppose,” I’ll say, “there’s five hundred men bring me threepence each every week. Now what man of you doesn’t spend threepence a week in drink, get the coppers how he may? Do you know how much that comes to, five hundred threepenny bits? Why, it’s six pounds five shillings. And do you know what that comes to in a year? Why, no less than three hundred and twenty-five pounds! Now just listen to that, and think about it. Those threepenny bits are no use to you; you _can’t_ save them, and you spend them in a way that does you no good, and it may be harm. Now what do you think I’ll do with that money? Why, I’ll use it as the capitalists do. I’ll put it out to interest; I’ll get three per cent. for it, and perhaps more. But let’s say three per cent. What’s the result? Why, this: in one year your three hundred and twenty-five pounds has become three hundred and thirty-four pounds fifteen; I owe each of you thirteen