CLAV. (obsequiously). You'd done the trick before I opened my mouth, sir. (Charlie goes to the back with the evident intention of effacing himself.)
JABEZ (briskly). Well, nothing to stay here for. We'd better be going, Rosie.
CLAV. It's all over but the shouting. (A cry heard off—"Douse 'un in th' 'orse-trough.")
JABEZ (skarply). What's that?
(Enter Pullen c.)
CLAV. Some of the shouting.
PULLEN. There's going to be no strike, sir.
JABEZ. Of course not. There never was the least chance of it. (Charlie stands near door r.)
PULLEN (scratching his head). A dunno about that. A thowt it a pretty near thing at one time afore tha coom in.
JABEZ (confidently). Rubbish, man. Mere talk. Never deceived me for a moment.