om the foot of the obelisk.

WILLIE. And now you're out on strike--now you've been out for a week
pretty nearly, what further are you? I heard a great deal of talk about
what you were going to do. Well, what ARE you going to do? You don't
know. You've not the smallest idea. You haven't any idea whatsoever.
You've got your leaders. Now then, Job Arthur, throw a little light
on the way in front, will you: for it seems to me we're lost in a bog.
Which way are we to steer? Come--give the word, and let's gee-up.

JOB ARTHUR. You ask me which way we are to go. I say we can't go our own
way, because of the obstacles that lie in front. You've got to remove
the obstacles from the way.

WILLIE. So said Balaam's ass. But you're not an ass--beg pardon; and
you're not Balaam--you're Job. And we've all got to be little Jobs,
learning how to spell patience backwards. We've lost our jobs and we've
found a Job. It's picking up a scorpion when you're looking for an
egg.--Tell us what you propose doing.... Remove an obstacle from the
way! What obstacle? And whose way?

JOB ARTHUR. I think it's pretty plain what the obstacle is.

WILLIE. Oh, ay. Tell us then.

JOB ARTHUR. The obstacle to Labour is Capital.

WILLIE. And how are we going to put salt on Capital's tail?

JOB ARTHUR. By Labour we mean us working men; and by Capital we mean
those that derive benefit from us, take the cream off us and leave us
the skim.

WILLIE. Oh, yes.

JOB ARTHUR. So that, if you're going to remove the obstacle, you've
got to remove the masters, and all that belongs to them. Does everybody
agree with me?

VOICES (loud). Ah, we do--yes--we do that--we do an' a'--yi--yi--that's
it!

WILLIE. Agreed unanimously. But how are we going to do it? Do you
propose to send for Williamson's furniture van, to pack them in? I
should think one pantechnicon would do, just for this parish. I'll
drive. Who'll be the vanmen to list and carry?

JOB ARTHUR. It's no use fooling. You've fooled for thirty years, and
we're no further. What's got to be done will have to be begun. It's for
every man to sweep in front of his own doorstep. You can't call your
neighbours dirty till you've washed your own face. Every parish has got
its own vermin, and it's the business of every parish to get rid of its
own.

VOICES. That's it--that's it--that's the ticket--that's the style!

WILLIE. And are you going to comb 'em out, or do you propose to use
Keating's?

VOICES. Shut i