JABEZ. I thought you'd more sense than to come-here with a tale of this sort. These things upset a woman. I do all I can to keep them from her, and here you spin this yarn before I've time to stop you. You should have come to me at the office.
CLAV. (Apologetically, sitting again above table). I rather hoped Miss Thompson might have put in a word for me.
JABEZ (Brusquely). Nonsense. You know very well that I don't allow my daughter to interfere with business. I'd as soon start messing with her housekeeping. That's a woman's place if you like—the home. We'd to make a rule of it, years ago, Rosie and I. She got asking fool questions about things she didn't understand and worrying me silly till we both agreed it was best for her to steer clear of the works. We've each our place now. I've the works and she's the home. You've made a bad mistake, sir.
CLAV. I'm sorry. I do hope you'll not let this prejudice Alcott's chances of a month off.
JABEZ. I shouldn't dream of doing such a thing. A month off for a labourer! It's absurd.
CLAV. (Seriously). I can't answer for the man's life if you don't, Mr. Thompson.
JABEZ. My dear sir, you're looking at the individual case. I can't do that. I've to see all my men at once and I know what they are. Give these fellows an inch and they take an ell. I can't make an exception for Alcott. I'd have to do the same for every man who fell sick and for Heaven knows how many malingerers as well; once I began that sort of thing, I'd never know when I'd end.
CLAV. Then you won't——
JABEZ (Interrupting). It's not that I won't, I can't, and there's an end of it.
(Enter Butler, l.)