Ste. Now, don't you worry about that, Alcorn. The land's as good as ours at our own price. Sir Charles 'ull jump at it. Bamford. Well, I'm for building on it. Alcorn. And I'm not so sure. Bamford. Of course you're on my side, Verity? Ste. Your side? Bamford. For building. Ste. No. Bamford. What, and you a builder! Ste. I've finished building now. I'm getting old. I've made my money. Alcorn. I'm out for making an open space of it. Bamford. You're a blooming philanthropist. Ste. No, he's not. It's a pity you missed our last meeting. You don't grasp the idea yet. We buy the land from Sir Charles. Bamford. Yes. Ste. Then we create a demand in the town for a recreation ground. Alcorn. And you back it up in the Council. Ste. And Alcorn as borough surveyor approves officially. Alcorn. We force the town to buy from us. Ste. And get a quick return of our capital with a clinking profit. Bamford (_obstinately_), Well, I thought it was houses. Houses are safe, and you'd easier raise a cry for houses than playing fields. Ste. Depends how you go about it. Work it proper and you could get them yelling like kids for a municipal service of flying machines. (_Enter Smithson, r._) Smithson. Good evening, gentlemen all. (_Stephen grunts and rises._) Alcorn. } Good evening Bamford. } Good evening (_Stephen gives Smithson his chair, and takes the vacant one r. c. of table._) Smiths. Sorry I'm late, but I've been employing my time well. Sowing the seed. Ste. Been getting at the voters? (_Smithson sits between Alcorn and Stephen._) Smiths. Yes, one or two. Ste. You've been wasting time. I've collared a man who'll bring in voters by the score. Alcorn. Who might that be, Mr. Verity? Ste. Young Montgomery. The parson lad. For all their talk, the Church still has a big hold on the poorer classes. It'll pay to have that boy on our side. He'll talk to them in the Polygon, too. Bamford. Aye. Good man, that, Verity. Ste. (_to Smithson_). There's a letter you'd better read. (_Smithson reads it._) Bamford (_sullenly; emerging from a silent sulk_). I thought it was houses. Ste. Well, it isn't. It 'ud take too much capital to cover the Polygon with houses. Bamford. It was houses. You've altered it. I ought to have been told. No one told me. Smiths (_looking up from the letter_). He'll come round. Ste. Yes. Bamford (_taking it personally; indignantly_). Who'll come round? I won't come round. Houses it was and houses it's going to be. Ste. (_moving Smithson to give Alcorn the letter. Alcorn pockets it. Dryly._) We spoke of Sir Charles. Bamford. Oh! Smiths, (_tentatively_). I fancy, myself, houses would be a safer battle-cry with the people, Mr. Verity. Ste. Damn the people. Who cares for the people? Alcorn (_rising_). I really must protest. Such language! (_He seems genuinely shocked._) Ste. (_impatiently_). It's so silly to talk as if the people mattered. Government by the people! Any fool can lead 'em where he wants.