Bill. What's the matter?
Jack. Can't find any work.
Bill. Work? T'hell with work! Why don't yous slam the gates?
Jack. Why don't I what?
Bill. I mean, why don't youse panhandle it?
Jack. I don't understand.
Bill. Gee! Where was youse raised—in the hayfields? I mean, why don't youse git up a hard luck story?
Jack. Beg?
Bill. Sure!
Jack. I tried it some, but nobody'll listen to me.