Enid.  But that’s the spirit of gambling.

Mrs. Roberts. [With a sort of excitement.] Roberts says a working man’s life is all a gamble, from the time ’e ’s born to the time ’e dies.

     [Enid leans forward, interested.  Mrs. Roberts goes on with a
     growing excitement that culminates in the personal feeling of
     the last words.]

He says, M’m, that when a working man’s baby is born, it’s a toss-up from breath to breath whether it ever draws another, and so on all ‘is life; an’ when he comes to be old, it’s the workhouse or the grave.  He says that without a man is very near, and pinches and stints ’imself and ’is children to save, there can’t be neither surplus nor security.  That’s why he wouldn’t have no children [she sinks back], not though I wanted them.

Enid.  Yes, yes, I know!

Mrs. Roberts.  No you don’t, M’m.  You’ve got your children, and you’ll never need to trouble for them.

Enid. [Gently.] You oughtn’t to be talking so much, Annie. [Then, in spite of herself.] But Roberts was paid a lot of money, was n’t he, for discovering that process?

Mrs. Roberts. [On the defensive.] All Roberts’s savin’s have gone.  He ’s always looked forward to this strike.  He says he’s no right to a farthing when the others are suffering.  ‘T is n’t so with all o’ them!  Some don’t seem to care no more than that—­so long as they get their own.

Enid.  I don’t see how they can be expected to when they ’re suffering like this. [In a changed voice.] But Roberts ought to think of you!  It’s all terrible——!  The kettle’s boiling.  Shall I make the tea? [She takes the teapot and, seeing tea there, pours water into it.] Won’t you have a cup?

Mrs. Roberts.  No, thank you, M’m. [She is listening, as though for footsteps.] I’d—­sooner you did n’t see Roberts, M’m, he gets so wild.

Enid.  Oh! but I must, Annie; I’ll be quite calm, I promise.

Mrs. Roberts.  It’s life an’ death to him, M’m.

Enid. [Very gently.] I’ll get him to talk to me outside, we won’t excite you.

Mrs. Roberts. [Faintly.] No, M’m.

     [She gives a violent start.  Roberts has come in, unseen.]

Roberts. [Removing his hat—­with subtle mockery.] Beg pardon for coming in; you’re engaged with a lady, I see.

Enid.  Can I speak to you, Mr. Roberts?

Roberts.  Whom have I the pleasure of addressing, Ma’am?

Enid.  But surely you know me!  I ’m Mrs. Underwood.

Roberts. [With a bow of malice.] The daughter of our Chairman.

Enid. [Earnestly.] I’ve come on purpose to speak to you; will you come outside a minute?

     [She looks at Mrs. Roberts.]