The Countess of Cantire enters with her daughter, Lady Maisie Mull.
Lady Cantire (to Footman). Get a compartment for us, and two foot-warmers, and a second-class as near ours as you can for Phillipson; then come back here. Stay, I'd better give you Phillipson's ticket. (The Footman disappears in the crowd.) Now we must get something to read on the journey. (To Clerk.) I want a book of some sort—no rubbish, mind; something serious and improving, and not a work of fiction.
Clerk. Exactly so, ma'am. Let me see. Ah, here's Alone with the 'Airy Ainoo. How would you like that?
Lady Cantire (with decision). I should not like it at all.
Clerk. I quite understand. Well, I can give you Three 'Undred Ways of Dressing the Cold Mutton—useful little book for a family, redooced to one and ninepence.
Lady Cantire. Thank you. I think I will wait till I am reduced to one and ninepence.
Clerk. Precisely. What do you say to Seven 'Undred Side-splitters for Sixpence? 'Ighly yumerous, I assure you.
Lady Cantire. Are these times to split our sides, with so many serious social problems pressing for solution? You are presumably not without intelligence; do you never reflect upon the responsibility you incur in assisting to circulate trivial and frivolous trash of this sort?
Clerk (dubiously). Well, I can't say as I do, particular, ma'am. I'm paid to sell the books—I don't select 'em.
Lady Cantire. That is no excuse for you—you ought to exercise some discrimination on your own account, instead of pressing people to buy what can do them no possible good. You can give me a Society Snippets.