Larry takes the chair near the door; draws it near the table; and sits astride it, with his elbows folded on the back.

Aunt Judy.  I’d no notion you were such an orator, Mr Broadbent.

Broadbent.  Oh, it’s only a knack.  One picks it up on the platform.  It stokes up their enthusiasm.

Aunt Judy.  Oh, I forgot.  You’ve not met Mr Keegan.  Let me introjooce you.

Broadbent [shaking hands effusively].  Most happy to meet you, Mr Keegan.  I have heard of you, though I have not had the pleasure of shaking your hand before.  And now may I ask you—­for I value no man’s opinion more—­what you think of my chances here.

Keegan [coldly].  Your chances, sir, are excellent.  You will get into parliament.

Broadbent [delighted].  I hope so.  I think so. [Fluctuating] You really think so?  You are sure you are not allowing your enthusiasm for our principles to get the better of your judgment?

Keegan.  I have no enthusiasm for your principles, sir.  You will get into parliament because you want to get into it badly enough to be prepared to take the necessary steps to induce the people to vote for you.  That is how people usually get into that fantastic assembly.

Broadbent [puzzled].  Of course. [Pause].  Quite so. [Pause].  Er—­ yes. [Buoyant again] I think they will vote for me.  Eh?  Yes?

Aunt Judy.  Arra why shouldn’t they?  Look at the people they do vote for!

Broadbent [encouraged].  That’s true:  that’s very true.  When I see the windbags, the carpet-baggers, the charlatans, the—­the—­the fools and ignoramuses who corrupt the multitude by their wealth, or seduce them by spouting balderdash to them, I cannot help thinking that an honest man with no humbug about him, who will talk straight common sense and take his stand on the solid ground of principle and public duty, must win his way with men of all classes.

Keegan [quietly].  Sir:  there was a time, in my ignorant youth, when I should have called you a hypocrite.

Broadbent [reddening].  A hypocrite!

Nora [hastily].  Oh I’m sure you don’t think anything of the sort,
Mr Keegan.

Broadbent [emphatically].  Thank you, Miss Reilly:  thank you.

Cornelius [gloomily].  We all have to stretch it a bit in politics:  hwat’s the use o pretendin we don’t?

Broadbent [stiffly].  I hope I have said or done nothing that calls for any such observation, Mr Doyle.  If there is a vice I detest—­or against which my whole public life has been a protest—­it is the vice of hypocrisy.  I would almost rather be inconsistent than insincere.

Keegan.  Do not be offended, sir:  I know that you are quite sincere.  There is a saying in the Scripture which runs—­so far as the memory of an oldish man can carry the words—­Let not the right side of your brain know what the left side doeth.  I learnt at Oxford that this is the secret of the Englishman’s strange power of making the best of both worlds.