(Enter c. Livesey, Jones and Alcott. They look sidelong at Jabez and slink behind to their hats. Livesey goes to Charlie.)
LIVESEY. They're talking yonder o' dousing thee in 'th 'orse-trough, Mr. Bunting. Tha'd best be off whoam sharp. (Gets his cap, r.)
ALCOTT. Aye, theer's none on us lot finished oop what tha might call 'ot favourites.
JABEZ (turning). Oh, Livesey, that you? Shake hands. No malice, I hope? (Livesey puts out his hand shyly, Jabez shakes it cordially, shaking after with Jones and Alcott, the latter of whom rubs his hand first on his trouser leg.) Good night, lads. (Charlie sits r. dejectedly.)
JONES. Good night, sir. (They go out r.)
ALCOTT. (Then comes to Jabez with hand extended. Jabez off-handedly, dismissing him).
JABEZ. Good night, Pullen.
PULLEN (drawing back disappointedly on seeing he is not to shake hands). Good night, sir.
(Exit Pullen r.)
JABEZ (to Clavering). There'll be no more trouble with those fellows. They know they're marked men now.