Ned. You told the Whip on the telephone you were ill--too ill to turn out. We were there when he rang you up. We eome here, and we find you well. Peter. I _am_ indisposed. Jones. Indisposed! Peter. I meant to go. I started out to go only I became ill on the way. Jones. You told us when you shook hands you'd never been better. Peter. Oh, I dare say. The usual figure of speech. I _am_ recovering. Jones. No. You spoke the truth then. You're lying now. Peter. Lying! This is too much. (_Rising._) Jones (_rising_). You'll like it less before we've finished. We're not in London losing a day's wages for our health. We've been called up to decide what's to be done with you. Peter (_angrily_). You'll decide what's to be done with me. You! Jones (_firmly_). We have decided. Ned (_still sitting_). They've been showing us your record at the Whip's office. You ignore them. You go to the House when you think you will. You refuse to submit to discipline. Peter. I serve the cause in my own way. (_He is consciously on his defence now._) It's a better way than listening to dry-as-dust debates and tramping endless miles through the division lobbies. I'm getting at the people. I'm carrying the fiery sword of revolutionary Socialism through the length and breadth of the land. I'm the harbinger of the new age. Wherever I go I leave behind me an awakened people, stirred from their lethargy and indolent acceptance of things as they are, fired with new hopes of the coming dispensation, eager to throw off the yoke and strike their blow for freedom, justice, and the social revolution. That's my work, comrades, not wasting my energy, my gift of oratory on the canting hypocrites at Westminster, but keeping them fresh for the honest man outside. I'm going to quarter England, town by town, until---- Ned (_rising, and putting his hand on Peter's arm, shaking his head_). It won't do, Garsidc. Jones. You needn't wag that silver tongue at us. You're found out. Peter. Found out! You can't find out a man you're incapable of understanding. You can't drive genius with a bearing rein. I'm a man of genius, and you're angry because I can't be a cog in the parliamentary machine. Ned (_quietly_). Whatever you are, you're paid to be a cog. Peter. If I'm to do my great work for the cause I must live somehow. The labourer is worthy of his hire. Jones. You're hired twice over. You get lecture fees when you ought to be in the House. You make local secretaries compete for your lectures to force your price up. You've got swelled head till you think you can do as you like. Peter. I won't be dictated to by you. Ned. And yet we're your masters, you know. Peter. It's my nature to be a free lance. Routine would kill me. I've to work for the cause in my own way. Ned. We don't want free lances. We want workers. If you want to speak to the people aren't your week-ends and vacations good enough? Peter. A hundred days to every week are not enough.