_Mr. G._ (_triumphantly_). See there, now. That's where canvassing comes in, d'yer see? It's our honly way of combating the hignirance and hapathy of the Upper Classes. Well, I'll tell yer somethink _about_ 'im. QUELCH worked as a lighterman on a barge fourteen years for eighteen bob a-week. Ain't _that_ a Man of the People for yer? And if he gits into Parliment, he'll insist on Labour bein' served fust; he's in favour of Shortened Hours of Labour, Taxation o' Ground Rents, One Man one Vote, Triannual Parliments and Payment o' Members, Compulsory Allotments, Providin' Work by Gov'ment for the Unemployed, Abolition o' the 'Ouse o' Lords, and a Free Breakfast Table. Ah, and he means _'aving_ it too. That's what JOE is. But look 'ere, why not come and 'ear what he's got to say for yerself? He's 'oldin' a small open-air meetin' in Kipper's Court this evenin', ar-past eight percisely. You come and bring yer 'usban', and I'll guarantee you git a good place close to the cheer. I'll interdooce yer to him arterwards, and he'll answer any questions yer like to arsk him--fair _and_ straight! _Lady N._ (_feebly_). Thank you very much; but--but we are unfortunately dining out this evening, so I'm _afraid_-- _Mr. G._ (_more in sorrow than in anger_). There it _is_, yer see. Yer afraid. Afraid o' 'earing the truth. Carn't trust yerself to listen to both sides. But I don't despair of yer yet. See 'ere; is it 'Ome Rule that separates us? 'Cos, if so, it needn't. QUELCH don't care no more for 'Ome Rule than that 'ere penwiper do, between you and me! On'y, yer see, he carn't _say_ so at present, d'yer ketch my meanin'? (Lady N. _rings the bell in despair_.) Oh, thankee, Mum, if you _are_ so kind, I'll take whatever yer goin' to 'ave yerself, _I_ ain't partickler. [Illustration: NEW FACES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. (_According to the Portraits that have appeared in the Illustrated Papers._)] _Lady N._ (_as the Butler appears_). CLARKSON, show this--this gentleman the way out. _Mr. G._ Don't you trouble, old pal, I can find it for myself. (_To_ Lady N.) I b'lieve, if the truth was known, you're comin' round already, Mum. I'll tell yer what I'll do. I'll leave some o' these 'ere little pamphlicks, as you might git your good man to run his eye over. "_Why_ I am a Radikil," "The Infamy of Tory Gov'ment," "'Ow we are Robbed!" &c. And 'ere's a picter-poster--"The 'Orrers of Coercion under the Brutal BALFOUR!" Yer might put it up in yer front winder--it don't _commit_ yer to nothing, yer know!--it'll amuse the kids, if you've any family. _Clarkson_ (_in his ear_). Will you walk downstairs quietly, or shall I have to pitch you?