JAWBONES. You find yourself ’alf way up a ladder, posting bills as the other side ’as took objection to—with a crowd of girls from Pink’s jam factory waiting for you at the bottom with a barrel of treacle, and you _will_ understand. Nothing else for me to do, o’ course, but to go up. Then they took the ladder away. SIGSBY. Where are the bills? JAWBONES. Last I see of them was their being put into a ’earse on its way to Ilford Cemetery. SIGSBY. This has got to be seen into. This sort of thing can’t be allowed to go on. (_He snatches up his hat_.) JAWBONES. There’s another suggestion I’d like to make. SIGSBY. (_Pauses_.) JAWBONES. That is, if this election is going to be fought fairly, that our side should be provided with ’at-pins. SIGSBY. (_Grunts_.) Tell Mrs. Chinn to keep that chop warm. (_He goes out_.) GINGER. (_She begins to giggle_. _It grows into a shrill hee-haw_.) JAWBONES. (_He looks at her fixedly_.) GINGER. (_Her laugh_, _under the stern eye of_ JAWBONES, _dies away_.) JAWBONES. Ain’t no crowd of you ’ere, you know. Nothing but my inborn chivalry to prevent my pulling your nose. GINGER. (_Cowed_, _but simmering_.) Chivalry! (_A shrill snort_.) JAWBONES. Yus. And don’t you put a strain upon it neither. Because I tell you straight, it’s weakening. GINGER. (_His sudden fierceness has completely cowed her_.) JAWBONES. You wimmin— (_There re-enters_ MRS. CHINN _with a tray_. _He is between them_.) That’s old Sigsby’s chop? MRS. CHINN. Yes. He hasn’t gone out again, has he? JAWBONES. I’ll ’ave it. Get ’im another. Guess ’e won’t be back for ’alf an hour. MRS. CHINN. He’s nasty when his food ain’t ready. JAWBONES. (_He takes the tray from her_.) Not your fault. Tell ’im I took it from you by brute force. MRS. CHINN. (_She acquiesces with her usual even absence of all emotion_.) JAWBONES. You needn’t stop. Miss Rose Merton will do the waiting. GINGER. (_Starts_, _then begins to collect her etceteras_.) MRS. CHINN. Perhaps there’ll be time to cook him another. (_She goes out_.) JAWBONES. Take off that cover. GINGER. (_She starts on a bolt for the door_.) JAWBONES. (_He is quite prepared_. _In an instant he is in front of her_.) No, yer don’t. (_A pause_.) Take off that cover. GINGER. (_She still hesitates_.) JAWBONES. If yer don’t do what I tell yer, I’ll ’ide yer. I’m in the mood. GINGER. (_She takes off the cover_.) JAWBONES. (_He seats himself and falls to_.) Now pour me out a cup of tea. GINGER. (_Is pouring it out_.) JAWBONES. Know why yer doing it? GINGER. (_With shrill indignation_.) Yus. Becos yer got me ’ere alone, yer beast, with only that cracked image of a Mrs. Chinn— JAWBONES. That’ll do. GINGER. (_It is sufficient_. _She stops_.)