for to-morrow night. What's she singing now, bless her?'

'The old songs. Nothing comes up to the old touch. Listen to this, dear
men.' Vincent carolled with flourishes:

Oh, cruel lamps of London,
If tears your light could drown,
Your victims' eyes would weep them,
Oh, lights of London Town!

'Then they weep.'

'You see?' Pirolo waved his hands at us. 'The old world always weeped
when it saw crowds together. It did not know why, but it weeped. We know
why, but we do not weep, except when we pay to be made to by fat, wicked
old Vincent.'

'Old, yourself!' Vincent laughed. 'I'm a public benefactor, I keep the
world soft and united.'

'And I'm De Forest of the Board,' said De Forest acidly, 'trying to get
a little business done. As I was saying, I've picked up a few people
in Chicago.'

'I cut out. Chicago is--'

'Do listen! They're perfectly unique.'

'Do they build houses of baked mudblocks while you wait--eh? That's an
old contact.'