Standing over him threateningly].
You're goin to stand up for her, are you? Put up your ands.

RUMMY [running indignantly to him to scold him]. Oh, you great
brute-- [He instantly swings his left hand back against her
face. She screams and reels back to the trough, where she
sits down, covering her bruised face with her hands and rocking
and moaning with pain].

JENNY [going to her]. Oh God forgive you! How could you strike an
old woman like that?

BILL [seizing her by the hair so violently that she also screams,
and tearing her away from the old woman]. You Gawd forgive me
again and I'll Gawd forgive you one on the jaw that'll stop you
prayin for a week. [Holding her and turning fiercely on Price].
Av you anything to say agen it? Eh?

PRICE [intimidated]. No, matey: she ain't anything to do with me.

BILL. Good job for you! I'd put two meals into you and fight you
with one finger after, you starved cur. [To Jenny] Now are you
goin to fetch out Mog Habbijam; or am I to knock your face off
you and fetch her myself?

JENNY [writhing in his grasp] Oh please someone go in and tell
Major Barbara--[she screams again as he wrenches her head down;
and Price and Rummy, flee into the shelter].

BILL. You want to go in and tell your Major of me, do you?

JENNY. Oh please don't drag my hair. Let me go.

BILL. Do you or don't you? [She stifles a scream]. Yes or no.

JENNY. God give me strength--

BILL [striking her with his fist in the face] Go and show her
that, and tell her if she wants one like it to come and interfere
with me. [Jenny, crying with pain, goes into the shed. He goes to
the form and addresses the old man]. Here: finish your mess; and
get out o my way.

SHIRLEY [springing up and facing him fiercely, with the mug in
his hand] You take a liberty with me, and I'll smash you over the
face with the mug and cut your eye out. Ain't you satisfied--young
whelps like you--with takin the bread out o the mouths of your
elders that have brought you up and slaved for you, but you
must come shovin and cheekin and bullyin in here, where the bread
o charity is sickenin in our stummicks?

BILL [contemptuously, but backing a little] Wot good are you, you
old palsy mug? Wot good are you?

SHIRLEY. As good as you and better. I'll do a day's work agen you
or any fat young soaker of your age. Go and take my job at
Horrockses, where I worked for ten year. They want young men
there: they can't afford to keep men over for