"Maily, I'm worried," exclaimed Mr. Daily in passing. "Things seem to
be easing down. Even you are not so nimble as you were. This silence
of the public troubles me--haven't been saying things about us for a
long time."

"Some people even praise us," remarked Mr. Maily, disgust mingling
with the perspiration on his face.

"We'll be damned if we put up with praise," Mr. Daily declared.

"We shall. We'd give praise if they'd damn us," said Mr. Maily.

"Never be funny, Maily, if you can help it," warned Mr. Daily. Then
he remarked wistfully, "If they'd only burn us again!"

"Couldn't we go for the Archbishop of CANTERBURY?" asked Mr. Maily.
"To be burnt during morning service in a cathedral--"

"No, these church-people couldn't be roused, Maily. Too much
dillydally about them. They'd never fall to it."

Mr. Daily jabbed his thumb against a white bell-push, and a clerk
appeared. "Got enough work to do?" asked Mr. Daily.

"And then some," said the clerk.

"Well, get on with it," shouted Mr. Daily impatiently, and pressed a
red bell-push.

"Plenty doing?" he asked the compositor who appeared.