And my foreman takes my orders and passes them along.

Those that don't like them needn't take them." "We demand our rights as--" began Mr.Wigglesworth heatedly.
"Excuse me, sir.

'A should like to enquir-r-e if it is your-r or-rder-rs that your-r for-r-man should use blasphemious language to your-r men ?" The cool, firm, rasping voice cut through Mr.Wigglesworth's sputtering noise like a circular saw through a pine log.
Mr.Maitland turned sharply upon the speaker.
"What is your name, my man ?" he enquired.
"Ma name is Malcolm McNish.

'A doot ye have na har-r-d it.

But the name maitters little.