TRANTO. I'm afraid that's impossible. JOHN. Is it? Why? TRANTO. Well, I haven't met him myself yet. He lives at a quiet country place in Cornwall. Hermit, I believe. Hates any kind of publicity. Absolutely refuses to be photographed. JOHN. Photographed! I should think not! But couldn't you get him to come and lecture at school? We have frightful swells, you know. TRANTO. I expect you do. But he wouldn't come. JOHN. I wish he would. We had a debate the other Saturday night on, Should the hereditary principle be abolished? TRANTO. And did you abolish it? JOHN. Did we abolish it? I should say we did. Eighty-five to twenty-one. Some debate, believe _me_! HILDEGARDE (_looking round_). Yes, but didn't you tell us once that in your Debating Society the speakers always tossed for sides beforehand? JOHN (_shrugging his shoulders. More confidentially to_ Tranto). As I was saying, I'm going to read the papers in future, as part of my scheme. And d'you know what the scheme is? (_Impressively_.) I've decided to take up a political career. TRANTO. Good! JOHN. Yes, it was during that hereditary principle debate that I decided. It came over me all of a sudden while I was on the last lap of my speech and the fellows were cheering. And so I want to understand first of all the newspaper situation in London. There are one or two things about it I _don't_ understand. TRANTO. Not more? I can explain the newspaper situation to you in ten words. You know I've got a lot of uncles. I daresay I've got more uncles than anybody else in 'Who's Who.' Well, I own _The Echo_,--inherited it from my father. My uncles own all the rest of the press--(_airily_) with a few trifling exceptions. That's the London newspaper situation. Quite simple, isn't it? JOHN. But of course _The Echo_ is up against all your uncles' papers--at least it seems so. TRANTO. Absolutely up against them. Tooth and nail. Daggers drawn. No quarter. Death or victory. JOHN. But do you and your uncles speak to each other? TRANTO. Best of friends. JOHN. But aren't two of your uncles lords? TRANTO. Yes. Uncle Joe was made an earl not long since--you may have heard of the fuss about it. Uncle Sam's only a miserable baron yet. And Uncle Cuthbert is that paltry insect--a baronet. JOHN. What did they get their titles for? TRANTO. Ask me another. JOHN. Of course I don't want to be personal, but _how_ did they get them? Did they--er--buy them? TRANTO. Don't know. JOHN. Haven't you ever asked them? TRANTO. Well, John, you've got relatives yourself, and you probably know there are some things that even the most affectionate relatives _don't_ ask each other. HILDEGARDE (_rising from the desk and looking at John's feet_). Yes, indeed! This very morning I unwisely asked Johnnie whether his socks ever talked. Altercation followed. 'Some debate, believe _me_!'