'No. No. Clapham Common. It is--er--handier for me where I live. Now, as you are interested in the movement, I was thinking that perhaps you might care to come and hear me speak next Sunday. Of course, if you have nothing better to do.' 'I should like to excessively,' said Psmith. 'Excellent. Bring Jackson with you, and both of you come to supper afterwards, if you will.' 'Thanks very much.' 'Perhaps you would speak yourself?' 'No,' said Psmith. 'No. I think not. My Socialism is rather of the practical sort. I seldom speak. But it would be a treat to listen to you. What--er--what type of oratory is yours?' 'Oh, well,' said Mr Waller, pulling nervously at his beard, 'of course I--. Well, I am perhaps a little bitter--' 'Yes, yes.' 'A little mordant and ironical.' 'You would be,' agreed Psmith. 'I shall look forward to Sunday with every fibre quivering. And Comrade Jackson shall be at my side.' 'Excellent,' said Mr Waller. 'I will go and tell him now.' 15. Stirring Times on the Common 'The first thing to do,' said Psmith, 'is to ascertain that such a place as Clapham Common really exists. One has heard of it, of course, but has its existence ever been proved? I think not. Having accomplished that, we must then try to find out how to get to it. I should say at a venture that it would necessitate a sea-voyage. On the other hand, Comrade Waller, who is a native of the spot, seems to find no difficulty in rolling to the office every morning. Therefore--you follow me, Jackson?--it must be in England. In that case, we will take a taximeter cab, and go out into the unknown, hand in hand, trusting to luck.' 'I expect you could get there by tram,' said Mike. Psmith suppressed a slight shudder. 'I fear, Comrade Jackson,' he said, 'that the old noblesse oblige traditions of the Psmiths would not allow me to do that. No. We will stroll gently, after a light lunch, to Trafalgar Square, and hail a taxi.' 'Beastly expensive.' 'But with what an object! Can any expenditure be called excessive which enables us to hear Comrade Waller being mordant and ironical at the other end?' 'It's a rum business,' said Mike. 'I hope the dickens he won't mix us up in it. We should look frightful fools.' 'I may possibly say a few words,' said Psmith carelessly, 'if the spirit moves me. Who am I that I should deny people a simple pleasure?' Mike looked alarmed. 'Look here,' he said, 'I say, if you _are_ going to play the goat, for goodness' sake don't go lugging me into it. I've got heaps of troubles without that.' Psmith waved the objection aside. 'You,' he said, 'will be one of the large, and, I hope, interested audience. Nothing more. But it is quite possible that the spirit may not move me. I may not feel inspired to speak. I am not one of those who love speaking for speaking's sake. If I have no message for the many-headed, I shall remain silent.'