“He’s filling his pockets, I warrant.”

“It’s not your business.”

“Whose then? It’s my belly. If everybody would make a complaint we should get something done.”

“A complaint?”

“Yes.”

“It seems you didn’t get flogged enough for that complaint. You image!”

“That’s true,” another who had hitherto been silent said grumpily. “It’s easy talking. What are you going to say in your complaint; you’d better tell us that first, you blockhead?”

“All right, I’ll tell you. If all would come, I’d speak with all. It’s being poor, it is! Some of us eat their own food, and some never sit down but to prison fare.”