JOB ARTHUR. Sounds like a sneezing game, doesn't it? GERALD. It is. Do you know the famous rhyme: Speak roughly to your little boy, And beat him when he sneezes? JOB ARTHUR. No, I can't say I do. GERALD. My mother does. Will you have anything to drink? Will you help yourself? JOB ARTHUR. Well--no--I don't think I'll have anything, thanks. GERALD. A cherry brandy?--Yes?--Anabel, what's yours? ANABEL. Did I see Kummel? GERALD. You did. (They all take drinks.) What's the latest, Mr. Freer? JOB ARTHUR. The latest? Well, I don't know, I'm sure--- GERALD. Oh, yes. Trot it out. We're quite private. JOB ARTHUR. Well--I don't know. There's several things. GERALD. The more the merrier. JOB ARTHUR. I'm not so sure. The men are in a very funny temper, Mr. Barlow--very funny. GERALD. Coincidence--so am I. Not surprising, is it? JOB ARTHUR. The men, perhaps not. GERALD. What else, Job Arthur? JOB ARTHUR. You know the men have decided to stand by the office men? GERALD. Yes. JOB ARTHUR. They've agreed to come out next Monday. GERALD. Have they? JOB ARTHUR. Yes; there was no stopping them. They decided for it like one man. GERALD. How was that? JOB ARTHUR. That's what surprises me. They're a jolly sight more certain over this than they've ever been over their own interests. GERALD. All their love for the office clerks coming out in a rush? JOB ARTHUR. Well, I don't know about love; but that's how it is. GERALD. What is it, if it isn't love? JOB ARTHUR. I can't say. They're in a funny temper. It's hard to make out. GERALD. A funny temper, are they? Then I suppose we ought to laugh. JOB ARTHUR. No, I don't think it's a laughing matter. They're coming out on Monday for certain. GERALD. Yes--so are the daffodils. JOB ARTHUR. Beg pardon? GERALD. Daffodils. JOB ARTHUR. No, I don't follow what you mean. GERALD. Don't you? But I thought Alfred Breffitt and William Straw were not very popular. JOB ARTHUR. No, they aren't--not in themselves. But it's the principle of the thing--so it seems. GERALD. What principle? JOB ARTHUR. Why, all sticking together, for one thing--all Barlow & Walsall's men holding by one another. GERALD. United we stand? JOB ARTHUR. That's it. And then it's the strong defending the weak as well. There's three thousand colliers standing up for thirty-odd office men. I must say I think it's sporting myself. GERALD. You do, do you? United we stand, divided we fall. What do they stand for really? What is it? JOB ARTHUR. Well--for their right to a living wage. That's how I see it. GERALD. For their right to a living wage! Just that? JOB ARTHUR. Yes, sir--that's how I see it. GERALD. Well, that doesn't seem so preposterously difficult does it? JOB ARTHUR. Why, that's what I think myself, Mr. Gerald. It's such a little thing. GERALD. Quite. I suppose the men themselves are to judge what is a living wage? JOB ARTHUR. Oh, I think they're quite reasonable, you know.