Pilling (_earnestly_). _I'd_ be badly off without you, sir.
Walter. Of course _he_ would. A gardener's no use if there's nothing to garden. Only Carrington's not a garden city. It's a manufacturing town.
Mont. (_with back to fire, to Pilling_). Supposing now you weren't a gardener?
Pilling. Well, sir, it 'ud seem to me against nature if the town had no quality in it.
Vin. (_turning triumphantly to Walter_). You see? (_Patronising Pilling._) You're perfectly right, Pilling. I've noticed it before. (_Talking at the ladies._) The masses always have this instinctive clinging to their superiors. They know we're the source of all prosperity.
Pilling (_shyly_). There's queer talk, sometimes, sir. _I_ know gentlemen are different from us, but there's men in this town wanting to tell me we're all born equal--asking your pardon, sir.
Mrs. V. You know better than that, Pilling.
Walter. Be honest, man. No one's going to hurt you for it. Tell us the truth, about the overcrowding and the waste of valuable space in the Polygon.
Mrs. V. Yes. Tell us the truth, Pilling, and say you know how necessary we are.
Pilling. You're bread and butter to me, mum, and I know it.
Walter (_impatiently_). But he's an exception. He's
Vin. (_interrupting_). You've got the letter, Pilling.
Pilling. Yes, sir. (_Turning, then courageously._) There's no denying as the overcrowding's something cruel. I wouldn't say a word of it, not to you, sir, if I didn't know and see and suffer it.
Walter (_to Vining, crossing above sofa c._). You heard that. Won't you wait? Wait till Verity's been. You'll catch the same post.
Vin. (_pause_). Give me the letter, Pilling, I'll keep it back a little.
(_Maid announces Mr. Verity. Maid withdraws Stephen is dressed as Act II, and very sure of himself, except at odd moments._)
Vin. (_patronisingly_). Ah, Mr. Verity. Pleased to see you. (_Advancing._)
Ste. (_up R. c., shaking hands; very formally_). How do you do?
Vin. (_hurriedly_). Yes. Sit down, won't you? (_Sits above fire._)
(_Stephen does so, uncomfortably, c. Walter stands R. end of settee._)
Vin. What we want to see you about is this confounded rumour of the Polygon's being up for sale for building lots. No doubt you've heard it?
Mont. Well, what do you think, Mr. Verity? Could anything be more absurd?