BROXOPP (_confidently_). They will. I can make them like anything. I can make them _cry_ for beans. They will lean out of their little cradles and hold out their little hands and say: “Broxopp. I want Broxopp. Give me my beans.” NANCY (_seeing them_). The darlings. (_Business-like_) Now tell me all about it. BROXOPP (_really meaning to this time_). It began with—Ah, Nancy, it began with _you_. I might have known it would. I owe it, like everything else, to you. NANCY (_awed_). To me? BROXOPP. To you. It was the nail-brush. NANCY. The nail-brush? BROXOPP. Yes, you told me the other day to buy a nail-brush. (_Looking at his fingers_) You were quite right. As you said, a gentleman is known by his hands. I hadn’t thought of it before. Always tell me, darling. Well, I went into a chemist’s. Fordyce had given me fifteen guineas. I had the odd shillings in my pocket and I suddenly remembered. There was a very nice gentlemanly young fellow behind the counter, and as sometimes happens on these occasions, I got into conversation with him. NANCY (_smiling to herself_). Yes, darling. BROXOPP. I told him something of my outlook on life. I spoke of the lack of imagination which is the curse of this country, instancing the man Spenlow as an example of the type with whom we artists had to deal. He interrupted me to say that he had found it so, too. A patent food which he had composed in his leisure moments—I broke in hastily. “Tell me of your food,” I said. “Perhaps,” and I smote my breast, “perhaps _I_ am the capitalist for whom you look.” NANCY. The five hundred pounds! BROXOPP. The five hundred pounds. The nest-egg which I had been keeping for just such a moment. In a flash I saw that the moment had come. NANCY (_a little frightened_). Then we shall never have that five hundred pounds behind us again. BROXOPP. But think of the thousands we shall have in front of us! Millions! NANCY. We seemed so safe with that in the bank. My little inheritance. No, darling, I’m not disagreeing. I know you’re quite right. But I’m just a little frightened. You see, I’m not so brave as you. BROXOPP. But you will be brave _with_ me? You believe in me? NANCY. Oh, yes, yes. (_Bravely_) Go on. BROXOPP (_going on_). He told me about his discovery. A food for babies. Thomson’s Food for Babies, he called it. (_Scornfully_) No wonder nobody would look at it. “The name you want on that food,” I said, “is Broxopp.” Who is Thomson? Anybody. The next man you meet may be Thomson. But there is only one Broxopp—the Great Broxopp. (_With an inspired air_) Broxopp’s Beans for Babies! NANCY (_timidly_). I still don’t quite see why beans.