Nay, come, there's no ill-will. (He
_returns to table and sits_ R. _of it_.)
HOBSON. Now, my lad, I'll tell you what I'll do.
WILLIE. Aye, we can come to grips better now there are no fine
ladies about.
HOBSON. They've got stiff necks with pride, and the difference
between you two and them's a thing I ought to mark and that I'm
going to mark. There's times for holding back and times for
letting loose, and being generous. Now, you're coming here, to
this house, both of you, and you can have the back bedroom for
your own and the use of this room split along with me. Maggie
'ull keep house, and if she's time to spare she can lend a hand
in the shop. I'm finding Will a job. You can come back to your
old bench in the cellar, Will, and I'll pay you the old wage of
eighteen shillings a week and you and me 'ull go equal whacks in
the cost of the housekeeping, and if that's not handsome, I dunno
what is. I'm finding you a house rent free and paying half the
keep of your wife.
WILLIE. Come home, Maggie. (_He rises, goes_ L.)
MAGGIE. I think I'll have to. (_She rises_.)
HOBSON. Whatever's the hurry for?
WILLIE. It may be news to you--(_moving a little_ R.),--but
I've a business round in Oldfield Road and I'm neglecting it with
wasting my time here.
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