Enid. [With a smile.] Are you ever violent, Frost?

Frost. Yes, M’m; oh! sometimes very violent.

Enid.  I’ve never seen you.

Frost. [Impersonally.] No, M’m; that is so.

     [Enid fidgets towards the back of the door.]

[With feeling.] Bein’ with Mr. Anthony, as you know, M’m, ever since I was fifteen, it worries me to see him crossed like this at his age.  I’ve taken the liberty to speak to Mr. Wanklin [dropping his voice]—­ seems to be the most sensible of the gentlemen—­but ’e said to me:  “That’s all very well, Frost, but this strike’s a very serious thing,” ’e said.  “Serious for all parties, no doubt,” I said, “but yumour ’im, sir,” I said, “yumour ’im.  It’s like this, if a man comes to a stone wall, ’e does n’t drive ’is ’ead against it, ’e gets over it.”  “Yes,” ’e said, “you’d better tell your master that.” [Frost looks at his nails.] That’s where it is, M’m.  I said to Mr. Anthony this morning:  “Is it worth it, sir?” “Damn it,” he said to me, “Frost!  Mind your own business, or take a month’s notice!” Beg pardon, M’m, for using such a word.

Enid. [Moving to the double-doors, and listening.] Do you know that man Roberts, Frost?

Frost. Yes, M’m; that’s to say, not to speak to.  But to look at ’im you can tell what he’s like.

Enid. [Stopping.] Yes?

Frost. He’s not one of these ’ere ordinary ’armless Socialists.  ’E’s violent; got a fire inside ’im.  What I call “personal.”  A man may ’ave what opinions ’e likes, so long as ’e ’s not personal; when ’e ’s that ’e ’s not safe.

Enid.  I think that’s what my father feels about Roberts.

Frost. No doubt, M’m, Mr. Anthony has a feeling against him.

     [Enid glances at him sharply, but finding him in perfect
     earnest, stands biting her lips, and looking at the
     double-doors.]

It ’s, a regular right down struggle between the two.  I’ve no patience with this Roberts, from what I ’ear he’s just an ordinary workin’ man like the rest of ’em.  If he did invent a thing he’s no worse off than ‘undreds of others.  My brother invented a new kind o’ dumb-waiter—­nobody gave him anything for it, an’ there it is, bein’ used all over the place.

     [Enid moves closer to the double-doors.]

There’s a kind o’ man that never forgives the world, because ’e wasn’t born a gentleman.  What I say is—­no man that’s a gentleman looks down on another because ’e ’appens to be a class or two above ’im, no more than if ’e ’appens to be a class or two below.

Enid. [With slight impatience.] Yes, I know, Frost, of course.  Will you please go in and ask if they’ll have some tea; say I sent you.

Frost. Yes, M’m.

     [He opens the doors gently and goes in.  There is a momentary
     sound of earnest, gather angry talk.]