Touch and Go | Page 8

for, but
they'll get five-thirds of it back again--and they'll get it out of your flesh
and blood, too, in jolly hard work. Shylock wasn't in it with them. He
only wanted a pound of flesh. But you cheerfully give up a pound a
week, each one of you, and keep on giving it up.--But you don't seem

to see these things. You can't think beyond your dinners and your
'lowance. You think if you can get another shilling a day you're set up.
You make me tired, I tell you.
JOB ARTHUR FREER. We think of others besides ourselves.
WILLIE. Hello, Job Arthur--are you there? I didn't recognise you
without your frock-coat and silk hat--on the Sabbath.--What was that
you said? You think of something else, besides yourselves?--Oh ay--
I'm glad to hear it. Did you mean your own importance?
(A motor car, GERALD BARLOW driving, OLIVER TURTON with
him has pulled up.)
JOB ARTHUR (glancing at the car). No, I didn't.
WILLIE. Didn't you, though?--Come, speak up, let us have it. The
more the merrier. You were going to say something.
JOB ARTHUR. Nay, you were doing the talking.
WILLIE. Yes, so I was, till you interrupted, with a great idea on the tip
of your tongue. Come, spit it out. No matter if Mr. Barlow hears you.
You know how sorry for you we feel, that you've always got to make
your speeches twice--once to those above, and once to us here below I
didn't meant the angels and the devils, but never mind. Speak up, Job
Arthur.
JOB ARTHUR. It's not everybody as has as much to say as you, Mr.
Houghton.
WILLIE. No, not in the open--that's a fact. Some folks says a great deal
more, in semi-private. You were just going to explain to me, on behalf
of the men, whom you so ably represent and so wisely lead, Job
Arthur--we won't say by the nose--you were just going to tell me--on
behalf of the men, of course, not of the masters--that you think of
others, besides yourself. Do you mind explaining WHAT others?

JOB ARTHUR. Everybody's used to your talk, Mr. Houghton, and for
that reason it doesn't make much impression. What I meant to say, in
plain words, was that we have to think of what's best for everybody, not
only of ourselves.
WILLIE. Oh, I see. What's best for everybody! I see! Well, for myself,
I'm much obliged--there's nothing for us to do, gentlemen, but for all of
us to bow acknowledgments to Mr. Job Arthur Freer, who so kindly has
ALL our interests at heart.
JOB ARTHUR. I don't profess to be a red-rag Socialist. I don't pretend
to think that if the Government had the pits it would be any better for
us. No. What I mean is, that the pits are there and every man on this
place depends on them, one way or another. They're the cow that gives
the milk. And what I mean is, how every man shall have a proper share
of the milk, which is food and living. It's like killing the goose that laid
the golden egg. I want to keep the cow healthy and strong. And the cow
is the pits, and we're the men that depend on the pits.
WILLIE. Who's the cat that's going to lick the cream?
JOB ARTHUR. My position is this--and I state it before masters and
men--that it's our business to strike such a balance between the interests
of the men and the interests of the masters that the pits remain healthy,
and everybody profits.
WILLIE. You're out for the millennium, I can see--with Mr. Job Arthur
Freer striking the balance. We all see you, Job Arthur, one foot on
either side of the fence, balancing the see-saw, with masters at one end
and men at the other. You'll have to give one side a lot of pudding.--But
go back a bit, to where we were before the motor car took your breath
away. When you said, Job Arthur, that you think of others besides
yourself, didn't you mean, as a matter of fact, the office men? Didn't
you mean that the colliers, led--we won't mention noses--by you, were
going to come out in sympathy with the office clerks, supposing they
didn't get the rise in wages which they've asked for--the office clerks?
Wasn't that it?

JOB ARTHUR. There's been some talk among the men of standing by
the office. I don't know what they'll do. But they'll do it of their own
decision, whatever it is.
WILLIE. There's not a shadow of doubt about it, Job Arthur. But it's a
funny thing the decisions all have the same foxy smell about them, Job
Arthur.
OLIVER TURTON (calling from the car). What was the speech about,
in the