Ste. Oh, yes, there will. We Progressives can't carry anything in the Council unless there's a big force of public opinion at our backs. Walter (_confidently_). You won't lack that if you've a practicable plan. Ste. (_hotly_). Practicable! Nothing ever is practicable to some folk that means spending public money and putting up the rates. They're too shortsighted to see that a healthy town pays best in the end. Walter (_reasonably_). Still, such things as rates have to be considered, I suppose. Ste. (_hotly_). Oh, yes. Consider the purses of the ratepayers and consider the health of the people and the danger of little children playing in the street and ask your religion which consideration weighs heaviest. Walter (_a little warmly_). Really, Mr. Verity, I needn't consult my religion. My common sense is sufficient to put me on your side--if you really are right in believing there can be two sides to such a question. Ste. Don't you make any doubt about that. There'll be two sides right enough. Walter. Well, can _I_ do anything? Will you accept my help? Ste. Yes, yours--and yours, Pilling, and every man's who'll say a word for us. (_A motor horn heard violently below the window--a few masculine curses and feminine shrieks--which Sally echoes as she leaps to window and puts it up._) Sally. Dick's in the street. (_She flies across from window and out at door._) Ste. (_with the air of a conjuror_). There you are! Street accident. (_Jim follows Sally, but is met at the door by a very irate taxi-cabman carrying Dick in one hand and by the slack of his trousers, followed by Sally. The Chauffeur is a Cockney, about thirty, clean shaven, with the usual oily pallid complexion--dark--with black leather leggings and a bottle green great-coat with red facings. His number is on an enamelled plate, which is reversed._) Jim (_with more threat than anxiety_). Have you hurt him? Chauffeur. 'Urt? Nah. Aw'm a hexpert droiver, aw am. (_He puts Dick on his feet. Dick seeks refuge behind his mother s skirts and pulls at them with one hand, curiously watching the Chauffeur all the time. Pilling takes jug from washstand r. and exit for water._) Pulled up in foive yard. Bet it ain't no bloomin' fault of 'is 'es not 'urt. Sally (_threateningly_). If you'd killed my boy I'd have---- Chauff. (_interrupting_). Cheese it, missus. 'E's only froightened. Dick. I'm not hurt, mother. Chauff. No, bet yer would be if yer got what yer bloomin' well arsked for. Yer came as near to it as bone is to flesh. (_Sally sits on stool r, with Dick, examining his bruised knee._) Ste. (_stepping forward pompously_). Now then, my man---- Chauff. Aw'm not yer man. (_To Sally._) Nah aw' give yer warning, missus, to look after 'im. (_Jim returns with water, which he puts by Sally r. She washes the knee._). Walter (_quietly_). Isn't it your business to look after the safety of pedestrians?