VICKEY. You like to see me in nice clothes.
HOBSON. I do. I like to see my daughters nice. (_Crosses_
R.) That's why I pay Mr. Tudsbury, the draper, 10 pounds a year a
head to dress you proper. It pleases the eye and it's good for trade.
But, I'll tell you, if some women could see themselves as men see
them, they'd have a shock, and I'll have words with Tudsbury an'
all, for letting you dress up like guys. (_Moves_ L.) I saw
you and Alice out of the "Moonraker's" parlour on Thursday night
and my friend Sam Minns--(_Turns_.)
ALICE. A publican.
HOBSON. Aye, a publican. As honest a man as God Almighty ever set
behind a bar, my ladies. My friend, Sam Minns, asked me who you
were. And well he might. You were going down Chapel Street with a
hump added to nature behind you.
VICKEY (_scandalized_). Father!
HOBSON. The hump was wagging, and you put your feet on pavement
as if you'd got chilblains--aye, stiff neck above and weak knees
below. It's immodest!
ALICE. It is not immodest, father. It's the fashion to wear
bustles.
HOBSON. Then to hell with the fashion.
MAGGIE. Father, you are not in the "Moonraker's" now.
VICKEY. You should open your eyes to what other ladies wear.
(_Rises_.)
HOBSON. If what I saw on you is any guide, I should do nowt of
kind.
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