RUTH. Soldiers!
GUY. What else are soldiers for? I ride to Blackburn barracks to-night. We'll teach these rioters a lesson that they'll not forget. Write me the summons to the barracks, father. You're a magistrate.
EPHRAIM. It's a heavy responsibility, Guy.
GUY. A flaming factory's the alternative.
EPHRAIM. Pass me the paper.
(Sits at table and writes, John bending over him. Guy goes to fireplace, takes a pair of spurs from mantel and straps them on. Ruth follows him.)
RUTH. Guy, must you ride yourself? Can't you send somebody you trust?
GUY (grimly). I'm sending somebody I trust.
RUTH. It's dangerous.
GUY. Rioting's a dangerous pastime—for the rioters.