There is only one thing to do, and I determine to do it. I must send for Mr. LOPSIDE to take away as soon as possible his antiplutocratic tubing. After all he was right when he had those, alas! unheeded misgivings. He said "he might be wrong"--and was!
SCENE--_Bar of a Railway Refreshment Room._
[Illustration: THINGS ONE SAYS WITHOUT THINKING.
"I'M SO SORRY YOU'VE HAD TO COME AND DINE WITH US WITHOUT YOUR HUSBAND, LIZZY. I SUPPOSE THE REAL TRUTH IS THAT, BEING LENT, HE'S DOING PENANCE BY DINING AT HOME!"
"OH, NO! I ASSURE YOU! HE THINKS IT A PENANCE TO DINE OUT!"]
"Demand and Supply!" So economists cry, And one, they assure us, must balance the other. _I_ fancy their doctrines are just all my eye, But then I'm a victim of bad times and bother. At least, friend Aquarius, _you_'ll understand That Jack Frost and you have between you upset me. You are down on me--ah! like a shot--with Demand, But as to Supply--ah! that's just where you get me.
Water? You frosty old fraud, not a drop, Save what I have purchased from urchins half frozen, I've had for six weeks for my house and my shop, And they tell me the six weeks _may_ swell to a dozen! Call _that_ Water-Supply, Mister Mulberry Nose? Why, your oozy old eyelids seem winking in mockery, My cisterns are empty, my pipes frozen close, I've nothing for washing my hands, clothes or crockery.
As to flushing my drain-pipes, or sinks, why you know, I might as well trust the Sahara for sluicing. A bath? Yes, at tuppence a pailful or so. Good gracious! we grudge every tumbler we're using. Your stand-pipes and tanks compensate for such pranks? Get out! You _are_ playing it low down, Aquarius. Be grateful for mercies so small, Sir? No thanks! My wrongs at your hands have been many and various.
But these last six weeks, Sir, are just the last straw That break the strong back of the rate-paying camel, I do not quite know what's the state of the law, But _if_ yours is all freedom, and mine is all trammel, If yours is Demand, and mine is _not_ Supply, As 'twould seem by the look of that precious rate-paper, Aquarius, old boy, I have plans in my eye For checking your pretty monopolist caper.
Pay up, and look pleasant? Ah yes, that's my rule For every impost, from Poor Rate to Income. But paying for what you don't get fits a fool, Besides, you old Grampus-Grab, whence will the tin come? Supply discontinued? Aquarius, _that_ threat, Is losing its terrors. I don't care a penny, 'Twon't frighten me now into payment, you bet, When for the last six weeks I haven't had any.