Chauff. (_at door_). Yus, and aw'll droive quick for once through Carrington and charnce it. The kids 'ad better look aloive. (_Looking back at Stephen._) Aw'll tell 'em when aw droive into the old garage in the Westminster Rowd abaht meetin' a real loive alderman. They'll be sending rand from Fleet Street to interview me abaht it. (_Exit Chauffeur, leaving door open._) Jim (_closing door--to Walter_). I'm sorry you've been spoken to like that in my room, sir. Civil tongues don't cost nothing. Walter (_smiling_). That's a type of modern progress. The new man, Mr. Pilling. Jim. Then I'd as lief have the old. Ste. That's where you're wrong, Jim Pilling. This fellow's up-to-date. He'd never be content to let his children play in the streets. He'd---- Jim. No. He'd drive over them. Dick (_who's been clutching Sally's skirts, staring_). Boo hoo! (_Sally bends down._) Ste. (_all ostentatious sympathy_). What's to do? Dick. My knee's hurting. (_Holding it up._) I falled on it. Sally (_examining it_). It's only bruised. Jim (_looking at the knee_). Got any plaster? Sally. I think so. (_Opens drawer in the dresser and searches._) I ought to have. Jim (_watches her_). What's that? Sally. That's no good. Corn plaster. There's Beecher's Pills and Wood's Sarsaperilla and every mortal thing except the one you want. Walter (_reprovingly_). Patent medicines, Mrs. Pilling. (_Back to fire._) (_Dick on stool, watching Sally._) Sally (_justifying herself_). They've all got the Government stamp, sir. Ste. (_who has taken out a pocket hook, eyeing Dick with what he thinks is benevolence_). I generally have some plaster in my pocket. (_But he looks in vain._) No, none there. Sorry, Mrs. Pilling. Sally. I'd better take him to the chemist's. (_She gets a purse from the dresser._) Dick. Don't want no chemists. Want my supper. Sally. You'll have your supper when we get back. Come and see the man who lives behind the big red bottles. (_Dick consents to go. Exeunt Sally and Dick._) Ste. (_triumphantly_). Anybody got anything to say against a recreation ground _now_. Walter. Neither of us ever had, I hope. Ste. You'd a lot to say about the rates. Jim. And I didn't see the use of pulling houses down to make room where houses are scarce. Ste. We shan't pull down many. Jim. It'll be a small ground then. (_Sits R. of table._) Ste. (_with quiet triumph_). About ten acres. Jim. You'll have to pull down streets on streets to find ten acres. Ste. We shall pull down just five houses. (_Sits L. of table._) No more and no less. Jim. Five houses! Walter (_startled_). Five, Mr. Verity? Ste. (_with bluster_). Yes. Five houses, I said. Walter (_puzzled_). Then you must be thinking of--oh, but that's ridiculous. Ste. And why is it ridiculous, Mr. Montgomery? Walter. The Polygon's the only place that applies to. Ste. Well, why shouldn't I be thinking of the Polygon? Walter. Are you? Ste. Yes.. Walter. But the Polygon is----