_of trap_). Are you
Mossop?
WILLIE. Yes, mum.
MRS. HEPWORTH. You made these boots?
WILLIE (_peering at them_). Yes, I made them last week.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Take that.
(WILLIE, _bending down, rather expects "that" to be a blow.
Then he raises his head and finds she is holding out a visiting
card. He takes it_.)
See what's on it?
WILLIE (_bending over the card_). Writing?
MRS. HEPWORTH. Read it.
WILLIE. I'm trying. (_His lips move as he tries to spell it
out_.)
MRS. HEPWORTH. Bless the man. Can't you read?
WILLIE. I do a bit. Only it's such funny print.
MRS. HEPWORTH. It's the usual italics of a visiting card, my man.
Now listen to me. I heard about this shop, and what I heard
brought me here for these boots. I'm particular about what I put
on my feet.
HOBSON (_moving slightly towards her_). I assure you it
shall not occur again, Mrs. Hepworth.
MRS. HEPWORTH. What shan't?
HOBSON (_crestfallen_). I--I don't know.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Then hold your tongue. Mossop, I've tried every
shop in Manchester, and these are the best-made pair of boots
I've ever had. Now, you'll make my boots in future. You hear
that, Hobson?
(MAGGIE, _down_ L. C., _is taking it all in_.)
HOBSON. Yes, madam, of course he shall.
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