Mrs. Roberts.  Well, Jan!

Jan.  Father ’s coming; sister Madge is coming.

     [He sits at the table, and fidgets with his whistle; he blows
     three vague notes; then imitates a cuckoo.]

     [There is a tap on the door.  Old Thomas comes in.]

Thomas.  A very coot tay to you, Ma’am.  It is petter that you are.

Mrs. Roberts.  Thank you, Mr. Thomas.

Thomas. [Nervously.] Roberts in?

Mrs. Roberts.  Just gone on to the meeting, Mr. Thomas.

Thomas. [With relief, becoming talkative.] This is fery unfortunate, look you!  I came to tell him that we must make terms with London.  It is a fery great pity he is gone to the meeting.  He will be kicking against the pricks, I am thinking.

Mrs. Roberts. [Half rising.] He’ll never give in, Mr. Thomas.

Thomas.  You must not be fretting, that is very pat for you.  Look you, there iss hartly any mans for supporting him now, but the engineers and George Rous. [Solemnly.] This strike is no longer Going with Chapel, look you!  I have listened carefully, an’ I have talked with her.

     [Jan blows.]

Sst!  I don’t care what th’ others say, I say that Chapel means us to be stopping the trouple, that is what I make of her; and it is my opinion that this is the fery best thing for all of us.  If it was n’t my opinion, I ton’t say but it is my opinion, look you.

Mrs. Roberts. [Trying to suppress her excitement.] I don’t know what’ll come to Roberts, if you give in.

Thomas.  It iss no disgrace whateffer!  All that a mortal man coult do he hass tone.  It iss against Human Nature he hass gone; fery natural any man may do that; but Chapel has spoken and he must not go against her.

     [Jan imitates the cuckoo.]

Ton’t make that squeaking! [Going to the door.] Here iss my daughter come to sit with you.  A fery goot day, Ma’am—­no fretting —­rememper!

     [Madge comes in and stands at the open door, watching the
     street.]

Madge.  You’ll be late, Father; they’re beginning. [She catches him by the sleeve.] For the love of God, stand up to him, Father—­this time!

Thomas. [Detaching his sleeve with dignity.] Leave me to do what’s proper, girl!

     [He goes out.  Madge, in the centre of the open doorway,
     slowly moves in, as though before the approach of some one.]

Rous. [Appearing in the doorway.] Madge!

     [Madge stands with her back to Mrs. Roberts, staring at him with
     her head up and her hands behind her.]

Rous. [Who has a fierce distracted look.] Madge!  I’m going to the meeting.

     [Madge, without moving, smiles contemptuously.]