What? In a big city there's bound to be a few men and women who can't
live without listening to themselves, and who prefer drinking out of
pipes they don't own both ends of. They inhabit flats and hotels all the
year round. They say it saves 'em trouble. Anyway, it gives 'em more
time to make trouble for their neighbours. We call 'em Serviles locally.
And they are apt to be tuberculous.'

'Just so!' said the man called Mulligan. Transportation is Civilisation.
Democracy is Disease. I've proved it by the blood-test, every time.'

'Mulligan's our Health Officer, and a one-idea man,' said the Mayor,
laughing. 'But it's true that most Serviles haven't much control. They
_will_ talk; and when people take to talking as a business, anything may
arrive--mayn't it, De Forest?'

'Anything--except the facts of the case,' said De Forest, laughing.

'I'll give you those in a minute,' said the Mayor. 'Our Serviles got to
talking--first in their houses and then on the streets, telling men and
women how to manage their own affairs. (You can't teach a Servile not to
finger his neighbour's soul.) That's invasion of privacy, of course, but
in Chicago we'll suffer anything sooner than make Crowds. Nobody took
much notice, and so I let 'em alone. My fault! I was warned there would
be trouble, but there hasn't been a Crowd or murder in Illinois for
nineteen years.'

'Twenty-two,' said his Chief of Police.

'Likely. Anyway, we'd forgot such things. So, from talking in the houses
and on the streets, our Serviles go to calling a meeting at the Old