Chauff. (_acknowledging the Church by a quieter reply_). What roight 'ad 'e to-be in the middle of the rowd? Ain't the poivement woide enough for 'im to ply 'opscotch? (_He addresses Walter._) Jim (_r_). Look here, that's my kid, and if you've anything to say you can say it to me. Chauff. Aw've this to sy. Yer tell 'im to keep to the poivements. 'E moight 'ave bin in 'eaven nah if aw wasn't a hexpert droiver. There's more kids to the square foot in this tahn than any place aw've struck. People moike a fair 'obby of it. Ste. (_importantly_). You'd better be careful what you say. You don't know who you're talking to. Chauff. (_with infinite scorn_). Fat lot aw care. Yer nothing but a crowd of dead-aloive provincials. Don't suppose yer ever saw a taxi-keb till me and my mate come dahn from London. A 'ackney keb is news to yer in these parts. (_Up to Stephen._) Ste. (_boiling over_). I'm an alderman of this town and if you don't talk to me respectfully I'll have your license cancelled. You're not fit to have one. Chauff. Ho! Blimey, not fit to 'ave a license, ain't aw? Aw've druv a dook in my keb. And yer a tahn councillor, are yer? Yus. Yer bloomin' well look it and aw can't say wuss than that. Ste. I'll pay you out for this. I'll report you to your employer. Chauff. (_indignantly_). Employer be blowed. Aw'm my own boss. Bought my keb, aw did. Thet's enterprise. Don't know what enterprise means dahn here, do yer? Ste, What's your number? I'll report you to the police. (_Goes to window and looks out._) Chauff. Yus, yer do. Aw'll tell yer where 'e is. On the 'Igh Street with a stopwatch in his fat hand, trying to cop me exceedin' the limit, and aw've never druv above ten moile for fear of the kids. (_Jim goes up to door._) Ste. I demand to know your number. Chauff. (_making sure that it is reversed_). Never you moind my number. My name's Walker. Fair fed up with this tahn, aw am. Aw'm used to drivin' gentlemen. Aw druv a bally commercial abart all yesterday and the blighter tipped me tuppence. (_Jim indicates door._) Yes. Aw'm going. My keb 'ull carry me to London now (_moves a bit towards door_), and yer rowds reek of kids. Aw've killed none yet and aw don't want to. Aw reckon 'oss kebs are good enough for Carrington. P'raps they train 'em to step loightly on the kids or else they're funeral 'osses in their spare toime and never learn to go faster. Ste. (_almost frenzied_). You... insolent... Cockney... cad. Chauff. (_crossing back to Stephen_). Foine language from a tahn alderman with the Church lookin' on an' all. Aw am among the nobs. Abart toime aw cleared when a tahn 'as a bally hobject the loikes of you for an alderman. Aw wouldn't be seen droiv-ing yer not for a quid a moile and disinfectin' free. (_Stephen looks pugnacious. Walter steps between them._) Walter. If you're going to London, Mr. Walker--I think you said Walker--hadn't you better go?