Quinn—Well, we can smash heads, too.
Mrs. Quinn—And be put in the lock-up for it.
Quinn—Am I in the lock-up?
Mrs. Quinn—(Quickly.) Whose head have you smashed John?
Quinn—To-night while we stood at the corner of Fourth and Marion, a trolley came along with passengers in it, a woman and two men.
Mrs. Quinn—John, ye didn't—
Quinn—The dirty scab who ran the car must have come from New York with that last bunch of strike breakers.
Mrs. Quinn—What did ye do?
Quinn—(Defiantly.) I picked up a brick, and let it fly through the window. Maybe the company can starve us, but we'll teach the public it's a damned unsafe thing to ride in the cars, while we're bein' starved.
Mrs. Quinn—Did ye do any hurt?