SPLURGE: I've rather a nice little poster being done, sir. A boy and a girl looking at one another with a rather knowing look. There's a large query mark all over the girl's dress. Then over the top in big letters I've put: "What is the secret?" and in smaller letters: "I've got a bit of Cheezo." It _makes_ people look at it, the children's faces are so wicked. SLADDER: Good, Splurge. Very good. I'll have that one. I'll rub their noses in that one. SPLURGE: Then I've got some things for the Press. (_Reads._) "She: 'Darling.' He: 'Yes, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget, darling.' He: 'No, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget to bring me some of that excellent Cheezo, so nutritious, so nice for darling baby, to be had at all grocers; but be sure that you find the name of Sladder on their well-known pink wrappers.' He: 'Certainly, wifey.'" Just the usual thing, sir, of course; only I have a very good little picture to go with it, very suggestive indeed; I've made all the arrangements with the Press and the bill-posters, sir. I think we'll make a big thing of it, sir. SLADDER: Well, Splurge, nothing remains to be done now, except to make the Cheezo. SPLURGE: How do you think of doing it, sir? SLADDER: Do you know how they kill pigs in Chicago? No, you've not travelled yet. Well, they get their pigs on a slide, one man cuts their throats as fast as they go by, another shaves their bristles, and so on, and so on; one man for each job, and all at it at once; they do it very expeditiously. Well, there's an interfering fellow sent there by the Government (we wouldn't stand him in England), and if a pig has a sign of tuberculosis on him he won't let that pig go down. Now you'd think that pig was wasted. He isn't. He goes into soap. Now, Splurge, how many cakes of soap were used in the world last year? SPLURGE (_getting up_): Last year? I don't think we have the figures in for last year yet, sir. [_He goes to bookshelf._ SLADDER: Well, the year before will do. SPLURGE: (_taking book and turning pages_): The figures are given, I think, sir, from the 1st of March to the 1st of March. SLADDER: That will do. SPLURGE: Ah, here it is, sir. Soap statistics for the twelve months ending 1st of March this year. A hundred and four million users, using on an average twenty cakes each per year. Then there are partial users, and occasional users. The total would be about twenty-one hundred million, sir. SLADDER: Pure waste, Splurge, all pure waste. SPLURGE: Waste, sir? SLADDER: Pure waste. What do you suppose becomes of all that soap, all that good fat? Proteids, I think they call 'em. And proteids are _good_ for you, Splurge. SPLURGE: What _becomes_ of them, sir? They're used up. SLADDER: No, Splurge. They disappear, I grant you. They float away. But they're still there Splurge, they're still there. All that good fat is somewhere. SPLURGE: But--but, sir--but--In the drains, sir?