MAGGIE. Yes, father.
HOBSON. So long as that's clear I'll go. (_He is by door_.)
Oh no, I won't. Mrs. Hepworth's getting out of her carriage.
(_He puts hat on counter again_. MAGGIE _rises and opens
door. Enter_ MRS. HEPWORTH, _an old lady with a curt manner
and good clothes_.)
Good morning, Mrs. Hepworth. What a lovely day. (_He
crosses_ R. _and places chair_.)
MRS. HEPWORTH (_sitting in arm-chair_ R. C.). Morning,
Hobson. (_She raises her skirt_.) I've come about those
boots you sent me home.
HOBSON (_kneeling on_ MRS. HEPWORTH'S R., _and fondling
foot_. MAGGIE _is_ C.). Yes, Mrs. Hepworth. They look
very nice.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Get up, Hobson. (_He scrambles up, controlling
his feelings_.) You look ridiculous on the floor. Who made
these boots?
HOBSON. We did. Our own make.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Will you answer a plain question? Who made these
boots?
HOBSON. They were made on the premises.
MRS. HEPWORTH (_to_ MAGGIE). Young woman, you seemed to have
some sense when you served me. Can you answer me?
MAGGIE. I think so, but I'll make sure for you, Mrs. Hepworth.
(_She opens trap and calls_.) Tubby!
HOBSON (_down_ R.). You wish to see the identical workman,
madam?
MRS. HEPWORTH. I said so.
HOBSON.
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