JOB ARTHUR. Make a space, boys, make a space, boys, make a space. (He stands with prisoners in a cleared space before the obelisk.) Now—now—quiet a minute—we want to ask a few questions of these gentlemen.
VOICES. Quiet!—quiet!—Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h!—Answer pretty—answer pretty now!—Quiet!—Shh-h-h!
JOB ARTHUR. 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.