MRS. JONES. No, but it's a woman's business to see as 'er childer gets their baggin', an' it's a woman's business to sit an' watch 'em clem if theer's no baggin' to give 'em. It's you men as does th' silly things an' us women an' childer as pays for 'em. Thee coom whoam an' quit makkin' a fool o' thasel'. (Pulling Jones towards door.)
JONES. 'Ere, missus, see yon door? Well, get thasel' 't'other side o' it sharp. Tha's no reeght in 'ere at all.
MRS. JONES. A've the reeght o' a moother wi young bellies to fill. Tha coom whoam or tha'll get rough side o' ma tongue till tha'll wish tha'd never, bin born. Wait while A get hold o' yon Bunting chap, an' all. A'll give 'im strikes. What does 'e want wi' interferin' in other folk's business wantin' folks to strike—'im as 'as allays gone fed an' warm clothed an' doan't know what clemmin' means? A'll strike 'im, A will.
LIVESEY. Tha don't understand, Mrs. Jones.
JONES. Coom on now. Let's 'ave no more o' it. Outside.
MRS. JONES. A don't stir a foot.
JONES. Don't thee, by gum? (Picking her up.) It's all same to me which way tha goes. (Crossing to door r., carrying her struggling.)
MRS. JONES (as they go out). Wait till A get thee whoam, my lad. (He carries her out. For a moment the altercation continues off r.)
PULLEN. (coming forward and sitting below table l. side). Yon wench is reeght, tha knows. A'm not goin' to 'ave nought to do wi' it. Man an' boy, A've worked for Maister Thompson thirty year an' A'm noan goin' to turn again ma ouid maister at ma time o' life. A know ma place, A do.
LIVESEY. Oh, A've no patience wi' thee.