the right with the women. The men go
off with Deschaume, whose hand is bleeding. Girard, who was
following them, meets Monsieur Feliat at the door._

GIRARD [_to Feliat_] Deschaume's bin hurt, sir.

FELIAT. He must be taken to the Infirmary.

DESCHAUME [_excitedly_] With her scissors she did it, blast 'er!

CHARPIN. The police, send for the police!

GIRARD. Don't be a bally fool. We can take care of ourselves, can't we,
without the bloomin' coppers.

DESCHAUME [_shouting_] The police, send for the police! To protect the
right to work. Send for 'em.

GIRARD [_to Monsieur Feliat_] If 't was to bully us, you'd have sent for
'em long ago. What are you waiting for?

FELIAT. I'm waiting till you kindly allow me to speak. I can't believe
my ears. Is it you, Girard, and you, Deschaume, who want to have the
police sent for to save you from a pack of women? Ha! Ha!

CHARPIN. Oh, it makes you laugh, does it?

GIRARD. You defend the cats because they're against us. Well, we won't
have it. Duriot's men came out--

CHARPIN. Yes, and we'll do the same.

DESCHAUME. We will. Look out for the strike!

GIRARD. We're agreed; ain't we, mates?

CHARPIN AND DESCHAUME [_together_] Yes, yes. We'll strike. Let's strike.

FELIAT. You don't really mean that you're going on strike?

GIRARD. Don't we, though!

FELIAT. How can you? I've given everything you've asked for.

CHARPIN [_growling_] That's just the reason.

GIRARD. If you've given in, that shows we were right. You'll have to
give in some more.

FELIAT. Good God, what d'you want now?

CHARPIN. We want you to sack all the women.

DESCHAUME. No we don't. We want you to sack Mademoiselle Therese.

FELIAT. You're mad! What harm has she done you?

GIRARD. The harm she's done us? Well, she's on your side.

DESCHAUME. She's turned the women's heads. They want to take our places.

CHARPIN. And we won't have it.

FELIAT. Come! Be reasonable. You can't ask me that.

GIRARD. We _do_ ask you that.

FELIAT. It will upset my whole business.

CHARPIN. What's that to us?

FELIAT. Well, I must have time to think about it.

GIRARD. There's nothing to think about. Sack the Paris woman or we go on
strike.

FELIAT. You can't put a pistol to my head like this. I've got orders in
hand.

GIRARD. What's that to us?

FELIAT. Well then, I won't give in this time. You demanded that I should
not open a new workshop. I gave in. I won't go further than that.

GIRARD