"Only buttoning my spat, Daily," said Mr. Maily. Then he too, springing from his chair, walked rapidly to and fro. But whereas Mr. Daily chose the route between the window and the motto, "Do something else NOW!" Mr. Maily took the line between the fireplace and "Keep on keeping on!" for they seldom felt compelled to stick to one direction.
"Maily, I'm worried," exclaimed Mr. Daily in passing. "Things seem to be easing down. Even you are not so nimble as you were. This silence of the public troubles me—haven't been saying things about us for a long time."
"Some people even praise us," remarked Mr. Maily, disgust mingling with the perspiration on his face.
"We'll be damned if we put up with praise," Mr. Daily declared.
"We shall. We'd give praise if they'd damn us," said Mr. Maily.
"Never be funny, Maily, if you can help it," warned Mr. Daily. Then he remarked wistfully, "If they'd only burn us again!"
"Couldn't we go for the Archbishop of CANTERBURY?" asked Mr. Maily. "To be burnt during morning service in a cathedral—"
"No, these church-people couldn't be roused, Maily. Too much dillydally about them. They'd never fall to it."
Mr. Daily jabbed his thumb against a white bell-push, and a clerk appeared. "Got enough work to do?" asked Mr. Daily.
"And then some," said the clerk.