THUR. We want to ask you, Mr. Gerald Barlow, why you have given
occasion for this present trouble.

GERALD. You are a fool.

VOICES. Oh!--oh!--naughty Barlow!--naughty baa-lamb--answer pretty--be
good baa-lamb--baa--baa!--answer pretty when gentleman asks you.

JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit Sh-h-h!--We put this plain question to you,
Mr. Barlow. Why did you refuse to give the clerks this just and fair
advance, when you knew that by refusing you would throw three thousand
men out of employment?

GERALD. You are a fool, I say.

VOICES. Oh!--oh!--won't do--won't do, Barlow--wrong answer--wrong
answer--be good baa-lamb--naughty boy--naughty boy!

JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit now!--If three thousand men ask you a just,
straightforward question, do you consider they've no right to an answer?

GERALD. I would answer you with my foot.

VOICES (amid a threatening scuffle). Da-di-da! Hark ye--hark ye!
Oh--whoa--whoa a bit!--won't do!--won't do!--naughty--naughty--say
you're sorry--say you're sorry--kneel and say you're sorry--kneel and
beg pardon!

JOB ARTHUR. Hold on a bit--keep clear!

VOICES. Make him kneel--make him kneel--on his knees with him!

JOB ARTHUR. I think you'd better kneel down.

(The crowd press on GERALD--he struggles--they hit him behind the
knees, force him down.)

OLIVER. This is shameful and unnecessary.

VOICES. All of 'em--on your knees--all of' em--on their knees!

(The seize OLIVER and WILLIE and ANABEL, hustling. ANABEL kneels
quietly--the others struggle.)

WILLIE. Well, of all the damned, dirty, cowardly---

VOICES. Shut up, Houghton--shut him up--squeeze him!

OLIVER. Get off me--let me alone--I'll kneel.

VOICES. Good little doggies--nice doggies--kneel and beg
pardon--yap-yap--answer--make him answer!

JOB ARTHUR (holding up his hand for silence). It would be better if you
answered straight off, Barlow. We want to know why you prevented that
advance.

VOICES (after a pause). Nip his neck! Make him yelp!

OLIVER. Let me answer, then.--Because it's worse, perhaps, to be bullied
by three thousand men than by one man.

VOICES. Oh!--oh!--dog keeps barking--stuff his mouth--stop him
up--here's a bit of paper--answer, Barlow--nip his neck--stuff his
mug--make him yelp--cork the bottle!

(They press a lump of newspaper into OLIVER'S mouth, and bear down on
GERALD.)

JOB ARTHUR. Quiet--quiet--quiet a minute, everybody. We give him a
minute--we giv