Alcorn (_sitting_). We must consider their feelings a bit. Think of the rates. Ste. Oh, we'll consider their feelings all right. We must make 'em feel what we want 'em to feel.. Then they'll vote for what we want and kid themselves we do it for their sake. That's how to consider their feelings. When I was a lad there was a trout stream ran through Carrington. It's a sewer now, but there were trout in it then and I've caught 'em by tickling their bellies. That's the way to catch voters, Mr. Alcorn. Tickle 'em. Alcorn. Yes, but the trout died. The voter lives to vote next time. Ste. Go on tickling. I'm an old hand and I've never known it fail. Bamford. You're not attending to me. I say houses. Smithson says houses. Smiths, (_in alarm_). Oh, no, I don't. Indeed I don't. I only say houses 'ull bring votes quicker than playing fields. Alcorn. I suppose you couldn't shout houses and make it the other thing afterwards? Smiths. I'm surprised at you, Mr. Alcorn. (_Very righteously._) I stand for purity in municipal life. Bamford. Yes. Always be honest with your electors. Ste. Alcorn's got none. He's a permanent official with a certain job, or he'd know better. Bamford. If I provide a quarter of the capital, I've a right---- Ste. You've every right, Mr. Bamford, and we shall do nothing without your approval. Bamford. Then I approve houses. As a ratepayer-- Ste. (_definitely_). Only, if it's houses, I can't go on. (_Consternation._) Smiths. (_frightened_). We can't do without your influence. Bamford (_grudgingly_). No, we can't do without Verity. Ste. Our share of what 'ull go on the rates is a flea bite. Our profit 'ull cover it a hundred times. I don't deny the town needs houses, needs 'em badly, only I haven't the capital for houses. My money's tied up and I'm not touching it. The money I'm putting into this isn't my own. (_Alcorn writes on a scrap of paper and passes it to Smithson, who reads, nods, and passes it to Stephen._) Bamford. Who's is it, if it's a fair question? Ste. My daughter's. I'll want it back quick. Alcorn. Your daughter's got money, then? Bamford (_very interested_). Your daughter's? Nice looking girl, your daughter. (_Slight pause._) Well, I'm using my own money and----(_Irritably._) What's that you're passing round? Another secret from me? Ste. (_blandly_). No. (_Passing him the paper._) Bamford (_reading_). "Make Bamford Mayor next year." (_He looks up at each in turn._) Um. Well. Bamford's willing. Alcorn. I think it's very suitable. Ste. Yes. We'll call it a recreation ground, eh, Mr. Mayor-Elect? Bamford. I'm not a favourite with the psalmsinging set, you know. Alcorn. I've got them in my pocket. They'll be squared all right. Ste. If I say mayor, you'll be mayor. You make a bit on the mayoral allowance, you know. Needn't spend above half of it. Bamford. All right. No need to say more. It's a recreation ground and damn the expense. (_The tension passes._)