Peter (_repulsing her_). No, no, I'm not worthy. Ned. We're the best judges of that. Peter (_firmly_). I'm too young. I'd be the youngest man in the Labour Party. Jones. Someone's got to be that. They need young blood. There's too much antideluvian trades unionism about the old gang. O'Cal. It's a queer thing you do be saying, and you without a grey hair to your head. It's a queer thing to hear a young man making moan beeause he's young. Mrs. G. (_appealingly_). Peter! Peter. But I'm---- (_Hesitating and looking from one to the other._) Ned. What? Peter. I don't know. I never thought of this. Jones. Think of it now. We've to act sharp if we're to do any good at all. Peter (_still wondering_). And you've come officially to offer it to me? Jones (_roughly_). Of course we have. Do you think we're playing with the thing? Peter. It's--it's awfully sudden. When do you want my answer? Ned. Now. (_Seeing Peter's distress, more kindly._) To-night, anyhow. The whole thing _'_ull be over in six weeks. We've little enough time in all conscience to create an organization. Peter. And if I say--no? O'Cal. Then one of the murdering blood-suckers that live upon our labour _'_ull get the seat, and it won't matter either way which side wins, for it's all one to the working man. Jones. It's you or nobody. Ned (_appealing_). Lad, you'll not say no. I don't say you'll never get another chance, beeause B.A.s are sort of scarce in the Amalgamated Society of Engineers. But I do say this. We want you. You've got a call to a high place and a high duty. Are you going to fail us in our need? O'Cal. We want you for another nail in the coffin of capitalism, another link in the golden chain that's dragging us up from slavery the way we'll be free men the day that chain's complete. Peter (_smiling_). And I'd be a nine-carat link, Denis. I'm made of baser stuff than the great leaders who compose that chain. I'm not worthy to aspire to a seat by their side in Parliament. Jones. There's such a vice as over-modesty. Ned. Nay, I like you better for being modest. You'd like us to go out and eome back in an hour or so. Mrs. G. Say yes to them, Peter. Tell them you'll be a Member of Parliament. Peter. Members of Parliament need electing first, mother. O'Cal. And are you doubting that you'll be elected? You've only to say you'll stand, and you can practise putting M.P. after your name this night, for you'll have need to write it certainly. Peter (_going to Margaret_). Margaret, what shall I say? Jones. You must decide this for yourself. Mar. (_coming forward a little reluctantly_). Yes, Peter. You must decide. No one can help you there. Peter. Won't you tell me what you think? Mar. (_firmly_). Not now. No other mind than yours can make this choice. Peter (_adrift_). But, Margaret, you've always given me advice.