[Laughter.]

Jago.  No Union!

Henry Rous.  Union!

     [Murmurs.]

     [Others take up the shout.]

Evans.  Blacklegs!

     [Bulgin and the blacksmith shake their fists at Evans.]

Thomas. [With a gesture.] I am an olt man, look you.

     [A sudden silence, then murmurs again.]

Lewis.  Olt fool, with his “No Union!”

Bulgin.  Them furnace chaps!  For twopence I ‘d smash the faces o’ the lot of them.

Green.  If I’d a been listened to at the first!

Thomas. [Wiping his brow.] I’m comin’ now to what I was going to say——­

Davies. [Muttering.] An’ time too!

Thomas. [Solemnly.] Chapel says:  Ton’t carry on this strife!  Put an end to it!

Jago.  That’s a lie!  Chapel says go on!

Thomas. [Scornfully.] Inteet!  I haf ears to my head.

Red-haired youth.  Ah! long ones!

     [A laugh.]

Jago.  Your ears have misbeled you then.

Thomas. [Excitedly.] Ye cannot be right if I am, ye cannot haf it both ways.

Red-haired youth.  Chapel can though!

     ["The Shaver” laughs; there are murmurs from the crowd.]

Thomas. [Fixing his eyes on “The Shaver.”] Ah! ye ’re Going the roat to tamnation.  An’ so I say to all of you.  If ye co against Chapel I will not pe with you, nor will any other Got-fearing man.

     [He steps down from the platform.  Jago makes his way towards
     it.  There are cries of “Don’t let ’im go up!”]

Jago.  Don’t let him go up?  That’s free speech, that is. [He goes up.] I ain’t got much to say to you.  Look at the matter plain; ye ’ve come the road this far, and now you want to chuck the journey.  We’ve all been in one boat; and now you want to pull in two.  We engineers have stood by you; ye ’re ready now, are ye, to give us the go-by?  If we’d aknown that before, we’d not a-started out with you so early one bright morning!  That’s all I ’ve got to say.  Old man Thomas a’n’t got his Bible lesson right.  If you give up to London, or to Harness, now, it’s givin’ us the chuck—­to save your skins—­you won’t get over that, my boys; it’s a dirty thing to do.

[He gets down; during his little speech, which is ironically spoken, there is a restless discomfort in the crowd.  Rous, stepping forward, jumps on the platform.  He has an air of fierce distraction.  Sullen murmurs of disapproval from the crowd.]

Rous. [Speaking with great excitement.] I’m no blanky orator, mates, but wot I say is drove from me.  What I say is yuman nature.  Can a man set an’ see ’is mother starve?  Can ’e now?