k, sir?

GERALD. I take nothing back, because I gave nothing.

JOB ARTHUR. Oh, excuse me, excuse me, sir. You said it would be all
right about the clerks. This lady heard you say it.

GERALD. Don't you call witnesses against me.--Besides, what does it
matter to you? What in the name of---

JOB ARTHUR. Well, sir, you said it would be all right, and I went on
that---

GERALD. You went on that! Where did you go to?

JOB ARTHUR. The men'll be out on Monday.

GERALD. So shall I.

JOB ARTHUR. Oh, yes, but--where's it going to end?

GERALD. Do you want me to prophesy? When did I set up for a public
prophet?

JOB ARTHUR. I don't know, sir. But perhaps you're doing more than you
know. There's a funny feeling just now among the men.

GERALD. So I've heard before. Why should I concern myself with their
feelings? Am I to cry when every collier bumps his funny-bone--or to
laugh?

JOB ARTHUR. It's no laughing matter, you see.

GERALD. An I'm sure it's no crying matter--unless you want to cry, do
you see?

JOB ARTHUR. Ah, but, very likely, it wouldn't be me would cry.--You
don't know what might happen, now.

GERALD. I'm waiting for something to happen. I should like something to
happen--very much--very much indeed.

JOB ARTHUR. Yes, but perhaps you'd be sorry if it did happen.

GERALD. Is that warning or a threat?

JOB ARTHUR. I don't know--it might be a bit of both. What I mean to
say---

GERALD (suddenly seizing him by the scruff of the neck and shaking him).
What do you mean to say?--I mean you to say less, do you see?--a great
deal less--do you see? You've run on with your saying long enough: that
clock had better run down. So stop your sayings--stop your sayings,
I tell you--or you'll have them shaken out of you--shaken out of
you--shaken out of you, do you see? (Suddenly flings him aside.)

(JOB ARTHUR, staggering, falls.)

ANABEL. Oh, no!--oh, no!

GERALD. Now get up, Job Arthur; and get up wiser than you went down.
You've played your little game and your little tricks and made your
little sayings long enough. You're going to stop now. We've had quite
enough of strong men of your stamp, Job Arthur--quite enough--such
labour leaders as you.

JOB ARTHUR. You'll be sorry, Mr. Barlow--you'll be sorry. You'll wish
you'd not attacked me.

GERALD. Don't you trouble about me and my sorrow. Mind your own.

JOB ARTHUR. You will--you'll be sorry. You'll be sorry for what you've
done. You'll wish you'