MRS. HEPWORTH. You'll keep that card, Mossop, and you won't dare
leave here to go to another shop without letting me know where
you are.
HOBSON. Oh, he won't make a change.
MRS. HEPWORTH. How do you know? The man's a treasure, and I
expect you underpay him.
HOBSON. That'll do, Willie. You can go.
WILLIE. Yes, sir.
(_He dives down trap_. MAGGIE _closes it_.)
MRS. HEPWORTH. He's like a rabbit.
MAGGIE. Can I take your order for another pair of boots, Mrs.
Hepworth?
MRS. HEPWORTH. Not yet, young woman. But I shall send my
daughters here. And, mind you, that man's to make the boots.
(_She crosses_ L.)
MAGGIE. (_Up at doors and opening them_.) Certainly, Mrs.
Hepworth.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Good morning.
HOBSON. Good morning, Mrs. Hepworth. Very glad to have the honour
of serving you, madam. (_Following her up_.)
(_She goes out_.)
(_Angry_.) I wish some people would mind their own business.
What does she want to praise a workman to his face for? (_Moves
down_ L. _and then to_ C.)
MAGGIE. I suppose he deserved it.
HOBSON. Deserved be blowed! Making them uppish. That's what it
is. Last time she puts her foot in my shop, I give you my word.
MAGGIE. Don't be silly, father.
HOBSON. I'll show her.
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