[Much time passes. Five strikes. Intolerable ages seem to pass. Then the door is suddenly wrenched open and the people stampede in to fight for the corner seats. Almost swooning in the hot air, they fling themselves down and sprawl across the tables, drinking in the heat and the smell of food through all their pores.]
MR WILKINS: Now then, all! You know the rules, I suppose. No hokey-pokey this morning! Sleep till seven if you like, but if I see any man asleep after that, out he goes on his neck. Get busy with that tea, girls!
A DEAFENING CHORUS Of YELLS: Two teas here! Large tea and a doughnut between us four! Kippers! Mister Wilkins! How much them sausages? Two slices! Mister Wilkins! Got any fag papers?
Kippers! [etc., etc.]
MR WILKINS: Shut up, shut up! Stop that hollering or
