By all accounts there's not much else for you to do.
TUBBY. There's better things than being a housemaid, if it's only
making clogs. (_Crosses to fire to toast_.)
JIM. They tell me clogs are a cut line.
TUBBY. Well, what are you to do? There's nothing else wanted.
(_Turns_.) Hobson's in a bad way, and I'm telling no secret
when I say it. It's a fact that's known.
JIM. It's a thousand pities with an old-established trade like
this.
TUBBY. And who's to blame?
JIM. I don't think you ought to discuss that with me, Tubby.
TUBBY. Don't you? I'm an old servant of the master's, and I'm
sticking to him now when everybody's calling me a doting fool
because I don't look after Tubby Wadlow first, and if that don't
give me the right to say what I please, I don't know. It's
temper's ruining this shop, Mr. Heeler. Temper and obstinacy.
JIM. They say in Chapel Street it's Willie Mossop.
TUBBY. Willie's a good lad, though I say it that trained him. He
hit us hard, did Willie, but we'd have got round that in time.
With care, you understand, and tact. Tact. That's what the gaffer
lacks. Miss Maggie, now ... well, she's a marvel, aye, a fair
knock-out. Not slavish, mind you. Stood up to the customers all
the time, but she'd a way with her that sold the goods and made
them come again for more.
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