WILLIE. Oh, yes.
JOB ARTHUR. So that, if you're going to remove the obstacle, you've
got to remove the masters, and all that belongs to them. Does
everybody agree with me?
VOICES (loud). Ah, we do--yes--we do that--we do an' a'--yi--yi--
that's it!
WILLIE. Agreed unanimously. But how are we going to do it? Do you
propose to send for Williamson's furniture van, to pack them in? I
should think one pantechnicon would do, just for this parish. I'll
drive. Who'll be the vanmen to list and carry?
JOB ARTHUR. It's no use fooling. You've fooled for thirty years, and
we're no further. What's got to be done will have to be begun. It's
for every man to sweep in front of his own doorstep. You can't call
your neighbours dirty till you've washed your own face. Every parish
has got its own vermin, and it's the business of every parish to get
rid of its own.
VOICES. That's it--that's it--that's the ticket--that's the style!
WILLIE. And are you going to comb 'em out, or do you propose to use
Keating's?
VOICES. Shut it! Shut it up! Stop thy face! Hold thy gab!--Go on,
Job Arthur.
JOB ARTHUR. How it's got to be done is for us all to decide. I'm
not one for violence, except it's a force-put. But it's like this.
We've been travelling for years to where we stand now--and here the
road stops. There's a precipice below and a rock-face above.
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