You'll not do owt of sort. Father likes his liquids
strong.
WILLIE (_down_ R. _of table_). A piece of pork pie now,
Mr. Hobson?
HOBSON (_groaning_). Pork pie!
MAGGIE (_sharply_). You'll be sociable now you're here, I
hope. (_She pours tea at table, top end_.)
HOBSON. It wasn't sociability that brought me, Maggie.
MAGGIE. What was it, then?
HOBSON. Maggie, I'm in disgrace. A sore and sad misfortune's
fallen on me.
MAGGIE (_cutting_). Happen a piece of wedding cake 'ull do
you good.
HOBSON (_shuddering_). It's sweet.
MAGGIE. That's natural in cake.
(MAGGIE _sits in chair above table_.)
HOBSON. I've gotten such a head.
MAGGIE. Aye. But wedding cake's a question of heart. There'd be
no bride cakes made at all if we thought first about our heads.
I'm quite aware it's foolishness, but I've a wish to see my
father sitting at my table eating my wedding cake on my wedding-
day.
HOBSON. It's a very serious thing I came about, Maggie.
MAGGIE. It's not more serious than knowing that you wish us well.
HOBSON. Well, Maggie, you know my way. When a thing's done it's
done. You've had your way and done what you wanted. I'm none
proud of the choice you made and I'll not lie and say I am, but
I've shaken your husband's hand, and that's a sign for you.
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