LIVESEY (sitting behind table r. side). The kids! That's the point, Jones. We're ould.
PULLEN (contemptuously). Thee ould! Why, lad, tha were nobbut breeched t'other day.
LIVESEY (turning on him). Yes, we are—we're ould as life goes here. We're done. But th' kids have a reeght to summat better. We canna see our way out. We're nobbut a silly crowd o' fuies.
PULLEN (interposing). Tha are that.
LIVESEY (continuing). But if we could nobbut educate our childer. They'd find a way.
PULLEN. 'Ere, mister, my lad, what's tha gettin' at? The kids gets their schooling, don't they?
JONES. Aye, till they're legally ould enough to coom to work an' forget in a year all as they've 'ad shoved into their yeads in eight. (Spits in fire.) They've a reeght to a better chance than we 'ad an' we can't give it 'em. We're not paid enough. We're livin' on hope, an' hope's like ivy. It clings to ruins.
LIVESEY. That's good. Tha remember yon an' give it 'em in theer in thy speech. (Jerking his thumb towards the door c.)
JONES (going on as though speaking to a meeting). Th' bosses 'ave got us down and they're sitting on our yeads. It's about time we woke oop an' showed 'em the working man's not such a blamed fool as 'e looks.
LIVESEY. Aye. Now tha' talkin'.