_First W. I. M._ (_flustered_). I wish you wouldn't break in just as I'm trying to make things clear. Why, the taxes on food, of course. _Second W. I. M._ There aren't any taxes on food. _First W. I. M._ Oh, indeed! Well, then, how do you explain Free Trade, and rent, and all that? _Second W. I. M._ Now you're getting a bit nearer. It's all a question of rent. Free Trade's got absolutely nothing to do with it. What we want in this country is a Sliding-scale. _Inquirer._ What's a Sliding-scale? _Second W. I. M._ (_taken between wind and water_). A Sliding-scale? Let me see--it's very difficult to put these things shortly. A Sliding-scale is a----well, it's a sort of patent mechanical contrivance for weighing out things, so as to make it fairer than ordinary scales do. (_Plunges recklessly._) You can make it slide up or down, you know, and fix it at any point you like. _Inquirer._ Really! What a rum-looking thing it must be. Have you ever seen one? _Second W. I. M._ Oh yes. They've got two or three in every big town. _Average Man._ When did you last see it? _Second W. I. M._ (_suspiciously_). Oh, I haven't seen one for some time. It _may_ perhaps be a _little_ different now. _Average Man._ Ah! [_A pause._ _Inquirer._ I see the Government's going to have an inquiry about Agricultural Distress. How are they going to work it? _First W. I. M._ Royal Commission, of course. _Second W. I. M._ No, no. It's going to be a Select Committee. _First W. I. M._ Well, what is the difference? _Second W. I. M._ Surely _you_ know that. They only have Royal Commissions for labour and that sort of thing. Committees don't get any pay, you know. _Inquirer._ Of course. I ought to have remembered that. But who's this Lord WINCHILSEA AND NOTTINGHAM, who's cutting about the country, talking about agriculture! What does he know about it? I don't seem to recollect his name. _First W. I. M._ He's a Peer. _Inquirer._ Yes, I know that; but why do they call him Lord WINCHILSEA _and_ NOTTINGHAM? _Average Man._ Because that's his name. [_A pause._ _Inquirer_ (_resuming_). But what is he driving at? _First W. I. M._ He's got hold of the right end of the stick. It's just this way. (_To_ Inquirer, _who winces under the imputation_.) You're a foreign country, and I'm a British farmer. Well, you grow your corn for nothing, and then you chuck it into my markets. Well, what I want to know is, where do I come in? You may call that Free Trade, if you like--I call it ruin. The result is, I'm smashed up, and the whole country goes to the devil! _Second W. I. M._ But you ought to consider the consumer. _First W. I. M._ What do you mean by the consumer? _Second W. I. M._ Why, myself, for instance. I get the benefit of it. _First W. I. M._ Ah, you may _think_ you do, but you don't really. In the end you've all to pay more for everything. _Average Man._ Well, I'm pretty happy as things are.