The Flying Stars Father Brown — G.K. Chesterton

"I think," said Sir Leopold, with a supercilious smile, "that Ruby means a Socialist." "A radical does not mean a man who lives on radishes," remarked Crook, with some impatience; "and a Conservative does not mean a man who preserves jam. Neither, I assure you, does a Socialist mean a man who desires a social evening with the chimney-sweep. A Socialist means a man who wants all the chimneys swept and all the chimney-sweeps paid for it." "But who won't allow you," put in the priest in a low voice, "to own your own soot." Crook looked at him with an eye of interest and even respect. "Does one want to own soot?" he asked. "One might," answered Brown, with speculation in his eye. "I've heard that gardeners use it. And I once made six children happy at Christmas when the conjuror didn't come, entirely with soot-applied externally." "Oh, splendid," cried Ruby. "Oh, I wish you'd do it to this company."