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 give him a minute to answer.
VOICES. Give him a minute—a holy minute—say your prayers, Barlow—you've got a minute—tick-tick, says the clock—time him!
JOB ARTHUR. Keep quiet.