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Brighouse, Harold, 1882-1958

"Hobson's Choice"

) Shop! Shop!
(MAGGIE _enters from_ R.)
I'm going out, Maggie.
MAGGIE (_She remains by door_). Dinner's at one, remember.
HOBSON. Dinner will be when I come in for it. I'm master here.
(_Moves to go_.)
MAGGIE. Yes, father. One o'clock.
HOBSON (_disgusted_.) Come along, Jim.
(JIM _and_ HOBSON _go out to street_. MAGGIE _turns
to speak inside_ R. _door_.) MAGGIE. Dinner at half-past
one, girls. We'll give him half an hour. (_She closes door,
turns arm-chair facing C. and moves to trap, which she raises_.)
Willie, come here.
(_In a moment_ WILLIE _appears, and stops half-way up_.)
WILLIE. Yes, Miss Maggie?
MAGGIE (L. _of trap_.) Come up, and put the trap down, I
want to talk to you.
(_He comes, reluctantly_.)
WILLIE. We're very busy in the cellar.
(MAGGIE _points to trap. He closes it_.)
MAGGIE. Show me your hands, Willie.
WILLIE. They're dirty. (_He holds them out hesitatingly_.)
MAGGIE. Yes, they're dirty, but they're clever. They can shape
the leather like no other man's that ever came into the shop. Who
taught you, Willie? (_She retains his hands_.)
WILLIE. Why, Miss Maggie, I learnt my trade here.
MAGGIE. Hobson's never taught you to make boots the way you do.
WILLIE. I've had no other teacher.


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