"What was the programme," I inquired, "of this--er--furniture-remover?"

"He was a reactionary," said Charles. "The Première's party had won a not
too sweeping victory at the polls on prohibition (not of alcohol, of
course--that had been done long ago--but of tobacco)."

"How on earth did she do it?"

"National economy, mostly," answered Charles. "She had the wives' vote
solid, and they carried the more docile of the husbands with them. She had
to throw out bribes to the unmarried electorate of both sexes, of course,
bribes which she had since been attempting to pay. Powder and chocolates
had been made cheaper. There was the Endowment of Cinemas Act of 1948, and
the Subsidized Football Bill of '49. But all these extravagances had
largely ruined the effect of the abolition of tobacco. At the beginning of
that year she had been obliged to cancel the State holiday on Mondays--"

"Why Mondays?" I inquired.

"Everyone feels beastly on Monday."

"But I don't see why they should feel any better on Tuesday."

"It was twenty-four hours nearer Saturday," he replied, "and Saturday was
also a State holiday. Labour, of course, was infuriated, and unrest was
every day becoming more apparent. The by-elections were going against the
Première. And now this new handsome young hero had arisen not only to
crystallise the support of his own sex, but capture the hearts of all the
female electorate under twenty."