Housewives busy
in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of
thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the
accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the
other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the
intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of
hysterics.
"And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said
Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?"
"If you 'ad some husbands--" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage.
"Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added,
taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game.
She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work."
Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying
good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out.
Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing
seriousness of his position.
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