172 THE REAL STANLEY HOUGHTON which thrill the entire tissue with at least the surface quality of life. London (simple old London !) never suspected this, of course — London hailed both these plays as autochthonous products, an unpolished pro- vincial's brutal picture of the provinces ; but in reality both owe their effectiveness to supremely sophisticated dexterities — to the artifices of such eminent Cockneys as the authors of Man and Super- man, and The Importance of Being Earnest and The Return of the Prodigal. Jepfcote. You don't even know who she is yet. Mrs. Jeff. Whoever she is, if she's not above going away for the week-end with a man, she can't be fit to marry our son. Jeff. Not even when our son's the man she's been away with ? Mrs. Jeff. That has nothing to do with the case. It is evident that she is a girl with absolutely no principles. Jeff. Dash it all I At that rate some folk might say that Alan's not fit to marry her because of what he's done. Mr. Kennion {gravely). I think the English way is best, Tom. Tom. Yes : and you think old England's the finest country in the world ; and that Salchester, dirty old Salchester, is the most beautiful city in England : and that the chapel's the noblest institution in Salchester. Mr. K. {very seriously). Well, Tom, if I do Tom {heartily). Don't apologize for it. That's the spirit that has made England what it is. Mr. K. {'pleased). Do you really think so? Tom {seriously). I do. Thank God I haven't got it ! This is simply the whimsical humour of Hankin, the nonchalant neatness of Wilde, carefully translated into vernacular. There is a good deal of Bennett in them too ; and just one small dab of Synge-song (" They call it Daisy Bank because of the daisies in the meadoivs. All the side of the brow falling away towards the river tvas thick with them. Thick dotted it ivas like the
