ROBERT. SOCIALISM! Funny, ain't it?

MANSON. _I_ don't think so. It's mine, too.

ROBERT. I believe in fighting with my clarss!

MANSON. Oh, against whom?

ROBERT. Why, agin all the other clarsses--curse 'em!

MANSON. Isn't that a bit of the old Robert left, comrade?

ROBERT. Oh, leave me alone. I cawn't be allus pickin' an'
choosin' my words! I ain't no scholar--thank Gawd!

MANSON. All the same, I'm right, eh, comrade? Comrade . . .

ROBERT [grudgingly]. Well, yus! [Savagely.] Yus, I tell yer!
Cawn't a bloke speak 'otter than 'e means without _you_ scrapin' at
'is innards?

[Exploding again.] Wait till I set eyes on that bleedin' brother
of mine again, that's all!

MANSON. Which bleeding brother?

ROBERT [with a thumb-jerk]. Why, '_im_, o' course! [Sneering.]
The Reverend William! 'Im as you said was damned! . . . Allus did
'ate parsons! I 'ates the sight of their 'arf-baked, silly mugs!