(_Emma puts them in and rests on her knees listening to Sarah's
next speech._)
SARAH (_pause_). A've been a 'ouseproud woman all my life, Emma,
an' A've took pride in 'avin' my bits o' sticks as good as
another's. Even th' manager's missus oop to factory 'ouse theer,
she never 'ad a better show o' furniture nor me, though A says it
as shouldn't. An' it tak's brass to keep a decent 'ouse over your
yead. An' we allays 'ad our full week's 'ollydayin' at Blackpool
reg'lar at Wakes time. Us didn't 'ave no childer o' our own to
spend it on, an' us spent it on ourselves. A allays 'ad a plenty
o' good food in th' 'ouse an' never stinted nobody, an' Tom 'e
liked 'is beer an' 'is baccy. 'E were a pigeon-fancier, too, in
'is day, were my Tom, an' pigeon-fancying runs away wi' a mint o'
money. No. Soom'ow theer never was no brass to put in th' bank.
We was allays spent oop coom wages neeght.
EMMA. A knaw, Mrs. Ormerod. May be A'm young, but A knaw 'ow 't
is. We works cruel 'ard in th' mill, an' when us plays, us plays
as 'ard too (_pause_), an' small blame to us either. It's our
_own_ we're spendin'.
SARAH. Aye. It's a 'ard life, the factory 'and's. A can mind me
many an' many's the time when th' warnin' bell went on th'
factory lodge at ha'f past five of a winter's mornin' as A've
craved for another ha'f hour in my bed, but Tom 'e got me oop an'
we was never after six passin' through factory gates all th'
years we were wed. There's not many as can say they were never
late. "Work or clem," that were what Tom allays tould me th' ould
bell were sayin'. An' 'e were reeght, Emma. "Work or clem" is
God's truth. (EMMA'S _head in box._) An' now th' time's coom when A
can't work no more. But Parson's a good man, 'e'll mak' it all
reeght. (EMMA'S _head appears._) Eh, it were good o' thee to coom
in, lass. A bit o' coompany do mak' a world o' difference. A'm
twice as cheerful as A were.
EMMA. A'm glad to 'ear tha say so, Mrs. Ormerod. (_Rises from the
box._) Is theer owt else?
SARAH. A were thinkin' A'd like to tak' my black silk as A've
worn o' Sundays this many a year, but A canna think it's reeght
thing for workus.
EMMA. Oh, thee tak' it, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. A'd dearly love to. Tha sees A'm noan in debt, nobbut what
chairs an table 'ull payfor, and A doan't like thowt o' leaving
owt as A'm greatly fond of.
EMMA. Yo doan't, Mrs. Ormerod. Thee tak' it. Wheer is it? A'll
put un in. Theer's lots o'room on top. A'll see un's noan
crushed.
SARAH. It's hanging theer behind door. (EMMA _crosses back to
door, gets clothes._) A got un out to show Parson. A thowt A'd ask
un if it were proper to tak' it if A've to go. My best bonnet's
with it, an' all.
(EMMA _goes below table, takes the frock and bonnet, folds it on
the table, and packs it._)
EMMA. A'll put un in.
SARAH. A'm being a lot o' trouble to thee, lass.
EMMA. That's nowt; neighbors mun be neighborly.
(_Gets bonnet from table and packs it._)
SARAH (_after a pause, looking round_). Place doan't look much, an'
that's a fact. Th' furniture's bin goin' bit by bit, and theer
ain't much left to part wi' now.
EMMA. Never mind; it 'ull be all reeght now Parson's takken thee
oop.
SARAH. A'm hopin' so. A _am_ hopin' so. A never could abide
th' thowt o' th' workus--me as 'as bin an 'ard-workin' woman. A
couldn't fancy sleepin' in a strange bed wi' strange folk round
me, an' when th' Matron said, "Do that," A'd 'ave to do it, an'
when she said, "Go theer," A'd 'ave to a' gone wheer she tould
me--me as 'as allays 'eld my yead 'igh an' gone the way A pleased
masel'. Eh, it's a terrible thowt, the workus.
EMMA (_rising_). Now tha's sure that's all?
SARAH (_after a pause, considers_). Eh, if A havna forgot my
neeghtcaps. (_Rises, moves centre and stops._) A suppose they'll
let me wear un in yonder. A doan't reeghtly think as A'd get my
rest proper wi'out my neeghtcaps.
EMMA. Oh, they'll let thee wear un all reeght.
SARAH (_as she goes_). A'll go an' get un. (_Exit right, returning
presently with the white nightcaps._) That's all now.
(_Gives them to_ EMMA _who meets her at centre._)
EMMA (_putting them in_). Yo' never 'ad no childer, did yo', Mrs.
Ormerod?
SARAH. No, Emma, no--maybe that's as broad as's long. (_Sits above
fire._) Yo' never knaw 'ow they go. Soom on 'em turn again yo'
when they're growed, or they get wed themselves an' forget all as
yo' 've done for 'em, like a many A could name, and they're
allays a worrit to yo' when they're young.
EMMA. A'm gettin' wed masel' soon, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Are yo', now, Emma? Well, tha art not one o' them
graceless good-for-nowts. Tha'll never forget thy moother, A
knaw, nor what she's done for thee. Who's tha keepin' coompany
with?
EMMA. It's Joe Hindle as goes wi' me, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. 'Indle, 'Indle? What, not son to Robert 'Indle, 'im as
used to be overlooker in th' factory till 'e went to foreign
parts to learn them Roossians 'ow to weave?
EMMA. Aye, that's 'im.
SARAH. Well, A dunno aught about th' lad. 'Is faither were a fine
man. A minds 'im well. But A'll tell thee this, Emma, an' A'll
tell it thee to thy faice, 'e's doin' well for 'isself, is young
Joe 'Indle.
EMMA. Thankee, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Gettin' wed! Think o' that. Why, it seems as 't were only
t'other day as tha was runnin' about in short frocks, an' now
tha's growed up and gettin' thasel' wed! Time do run on. Sithee,
Emma, tha's a good lass, A've gotten an ould teapot in yonder
(_indicating her bedroom_) as my moother give me when A was wed. A
weren't for packing it in box because o' risk o' breaking it. A
were going to carry it in my 'and. A'd a mind to keep it till A
died, but A reckon A'll 'ave no use for it in workus.
EMMA. Tha's not gone theer yet.
SARAH. Never mind that. (_Slowly rises._) A'm going to give it
thee, lass, for a weddin' gift. Tha'll tak' care of it, A knaw,
and when thy eye catches it, 'appen tha'll spare me a thowt.
EMMA. Oh, no, Mrs. Ormerod, A couldn't think o' takkin' it.
SARAH. Art too proud to tak' a gift from me?
EMMA. No. Tha knaws A'm not.
SARAH. Then hold thy hush. A'll be back in a minute. Happen A'd
best tidy masel' up too against Parson cooms.
EMMA. Can A help thee, Mrs. Ormerod?
SARAH. No, lass, no. A can do a bit for masel'. My 'ands isn't
that bad; A canna weave wi' 'em, but A can do all as A need do.
EMMA. Well, A'll do box up.
(_Crosses to table right and gets cord._)
SARAH. Aye.
EMMA. All reeght.
(_Exit_ SARAH. _A man's face appears outside at the window. He
surveys the room, and then the face vanishes as he knocks at the
door._)
Who's theer?
SAM (_without_). It's me, Sam Horrocks. (_EMMA crosses left and
opens door._) May A coom in?
EMMA. What dost want?
SAM (_on the doorstep_). A want a word wi' thee, Emma Brierley. A
followed thee oop from factory and A've bin waitin' out theer
till A'm tired o' waitin'.
EMMA. Well, tha'd better coom in. A 'aven't time to talk wi' thee
at door.
(EMMA _lets him in, closes door, and, leaving him standing in the
middle of the room, resumes work on her knees at the box._ SAM
HORROCKS _is a hulking young man of a rather vacant expression. He
is dressed in mechanic's blue dungarees. His face is oily and his
clothes stained. He wears boots, not clogs. He mechanically takes
a ball of oily black cotton-waste from his right pocket when in
conversational difficulties and wipes his hands upon it. He has a
red muffler round his neck without collar, and his shock affair
hair is surmounted by a greasy black cap, which covers perhaps
one tenth of it._)
SAM (_after watching_ EMMA's _back for a moment_). Wheer's Mrs.
Ormerod?
EMMA (_without looking up_). What's that to do wi' thee?
SAM (_apologetically_). A were only askin'. Tha needn't be short
wi' a chap.
EMMA. She's in scullery washin' 'er, if tha wants to knaw.
SAM. Oh!
EMMA (_looking at him over her shoulder after a slight pause_).
Doan't tha tak' thy cap off in 'ouse, Sam Horrocks?
SAM. Naw.
EMMA. Well, tha can tak' it off in this 'ouse or get t' t'other
side o' door.
SAM. (_Takes off his cap and stuffs it in his left pocket after
trying his right and finding the ball of waste in it._) Yes, Emma.
(EMMA _resumes work with her back towards him and waits for him to
speak. But he is not ready yet._)
EMMA. Well, what dost want?
SAM. Nought.--Eh, but tha art a gradely wench.
EMMA. What's that to do wi' thee?
SAM. Nought.
EMMA. Then just tha mind thy own business, an' doan't pass
compliments behind folks' backs.
SAM. A didn't mean no 'arm.
EMMA. Well?
SAM. It's a fine day, isn't it? For th' time o' th' year?
EMMA. Aye.
SAM. A very fine day.
EMMA. Aye.
SAM (_desperately_). It's a damned fine day.
EMMA. Aye.
SAM (_after a moment_). Dost know my 'ouse, Emma?
EMMA. Aye.
SAM. Wert ever in it?
EMMA. Not sin' tha moother died.
SAM. Naw. A suppose not. Not sin' ma moother died. She were a
fine woman, ma moother, for all she were bed-ridden.
EMMA. She were better than 'er son, though that's not saying much
neither.
SAM. Naw, but tha does mind ma 'ouse, Emma, as it were when she
were alive?
EMMA. Aye.
SAM. A 've done a bit at it sin' them days. Got a new quilt on
bed from Co-op. Red un, it is, wi' blue stripes down 'er.
EMMA. Aye.
SAM. Well, Emma?
EMMA (_over her shoulder_). Well, what? What's thy 'ouse an' thy
quilt to do wi' me?
SAM. Oh, nought.--Tha doesn't 'elp a feller much, neither.
EMMA. (_Rises and faces him. SAM is behind corner table and backs
a little before her._) What's tha gettin' at, Sam Horrocks? Tha's
got a tongue in thy faice, hasn't tha?
SAM. A suppose so. A doan't use it much though.
EMMA. No. Tha's not much better than a tongue-tied idiot, Sam
Horrocks, allays mooning about in th' engine-house in daytime an'
sulkin' at 'ome neeghttime.
SAM. Aye, A'm lonely sin' ma moother died. She did 'ave a way wi'
'er, ma moother. Th' 'ould plaice 'as not bin t' same to me sin'
she went. Daytime, tha knaws, A'm all reeght. Tha sees, them
engines, them an' me's pals. They talks to me an' A understands
their ways. A doan't some'ow seem to understand th' ways o' folks
like as A does th' ways o' them engines.
EMMA. Tha doesn't try. T' other lads goes rattin' or
dog-feeghtin' on a Sunday or to a football match of a Saturday
afternoon. Tha stays moonin' about th' 'ouse. Tha's not likely to
understand folks. Tha's not sociable.
SAM. Naw. That's reeght enough. A nobbut get laughed at when A
tries to be sociable an' stand my corner down at th' pub wi' th'
rest o' th' lads. It's no use ma tryin' to soop ale; A can't
carry th' drink like t' others. A knaws A've ways o' ma own.
EMMA. Tha has that.
SAM. A'm terrible lonesome, Emma. That theer 'ouse o' mine, it do
want a wench about th' plaice. Th' engines is all reeght for
days, but th' neeghts is that lonesome-like tha wouldn't believe.
EMMA. Tha's only thasel' to blame. It's nought to do wi' me,
choosehow.
SAM. Naw? A'd--A'd 'oped as 'ow it might 'ave, Emma.
EMMA (_approaching threateningly_). Sam Horrocks, if tha doan't
tell me proper what tha means A 'll give tha such a slap in th'
mouth.
SAM (_backing before her_). Tha does fluster a feller, Emma. Just
like ma moother.
EMMA. A wish A 'ad bin. A'd 'ave knocked some sense into thy
silly yead.
SAM (_suddenly and clumsily kneels above chair left of table_).
Wilt tha 'ave me, Emma? A mak' good money in th'engine-house.
EMMA. Get oop, tha great fool. If tha didn't keep thasel' so
close wi' tha moonin' about in th' engine-'ouse an' never
speakin' a word to nobody, tha'd knaw A were keepin' coompany wi'
Joe Hindle.
SAM (_scrambling up_). Is that a fact, Emma?
EMMA. Of course it's a fact. Banns 'ull be oop come Sunday
fortneeght. We've not 'idden it neither. It's just like the great
blind idiot that tha art not to 'a' seen it long enough sin'.
SAM. A wer'n't aware. By gum, A 'ad so 'oped as tha'd 'ave me,
Emma.
EMMA (_a little more softly_). A'm sorry if A've 'urt thee, Sam.
SAM. Aye. It were ma fault. Eh, well, A think mebbe A'd best be
goin'.
EMMA (_lifts box to left_). Aye. Parson's coomin' to see Mrs.
Ormerod in a minute.
SAM (_with pride_). A knaw all about that, anyhow.
EMMA. She'm in a bad way. A dunno masel' as Parson can do much
for 'er.
SAM. It's 'ard lines on an ould un. Well, yo' 'll not want
me'ere. A 'll be movin' on. (_Getting his cap out_) No offense,
Emma, A 'ope. A'd 'ave asked thee first if A'd knawn as 'e were
after thee. A've bin tryin' for long enough.
EMMA. No. Theer's no offense, Sam. Tha's a good lad if tha art a
fool, an' mebbe tha's not to blame for that. Good-bye.
SAM. Good-bye, Emma. An'--An' A 'ope 'e'll mak' thee 'appy. A'd
dearly like to coom to th' weddin' an' shake 'is 'and.
(MRS. ORMEROD _heard off right._)
EMMA. A'll see tha's asked. Theer's Mrs. Ormerod stirrin'. Tha'd
best be gettin'.
SAM. All reeght. Good-bye, Emma.
EMMA. Good-bye, Sam.
(_Exit_ SAM _left centre._ MRS. ORMEROD _comes from the inside door.
She has a small blue teapot in her hand._)
SARAH. Was anybody 'ere, Emma? A thowt A yeard someun talkin',
only my yearin' isn't what it used to be, an' A warn't sure.
EMMA. It were Sam Horrocks, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Yon lad of ould Sal Horrocks as died last year? 'Im as
isn't reeght in 'is yead?
EMMA. Aye. 'E's bin askin' me to wed 'im.
SARAH (_incensed_). In my 'ouse? Theer's imperence for thee, an'
tha promised to another lad, an' all. A'd 'ave set about 'im wi'
a stick, Emma.
EMMA. 'E didn't knaw about Joe. It made me feel cruel like to
'ave to tell 'im.
SARAH. 'E'll get ower it. Soom lass 'll tak' 'im.
EMMA. A suppose so.
SARAH (_coming down, putting the teapot in EMMA'S hands_). Well,
theer's teapot.
EMMA (_meets SARAH right centre, examining teapot_). It's
beautiful. Beautiful, it is, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Aye, it's a bit o' real china is that. Tha'll tak' care
on't, lass, won't thee?
EMMA. A will an' all.
SARAH. Aye. A knaw it's safe wi' thee. Mebbe safer than it would
be in workus. A can't think well on yon plaice. A goa cold all
ower at thowt of it.
(_A knock at the door._)
EMMA. That'll be Parson.
SARAH (_crosses left, smoothing her hair_). Goa an' look through
window first, an' see who 't is.
EMMA (_puts teapot on table; looking through window_). It is not
th' ould Parson. It's one o' them young curate chaps.
SARAH. Well, coom away from window an' sit thee down. It won't do
to seem too eager. Let un knock again if it's not th' ould
Parson.
(EMMA _leaves the window and goes to right of table. The knock is
repeated._)
SARAH (_raising her voice_). Coom in so who tha art. Door's on
latch.
(_Enter the_ REV. FRANK ALLEYNE. _He is a young curate, a
Londoner and an Oxford man, by association, training, and taste
totally unfitted for a Lancashire curacy, in which he is,
unfortunately, no exception._)
ALLEYNE. Good afternoon, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Good day to thee.
ALLEYNE. I'm sorry to say Mr. Blundell has had to go to a
missionary meeting, but he asked me to come and see you in his
stead.
SARAH. Tha's welcoom, lad. Sit thee doon.
(EMMA _comes below table left. Dusts a chair, which doesn't need
it, with her apron._ ALLEYNE _raises a deprecatory hand._ SARAH'S
_familiarity, as it seems to him, offends him. He looks sourly at_
EMMA _and markedly ignores her._)
ALLEYNE. Thank you; no, I won't sit; I cannot stay long.
SARAH. Just as tha likes. It's all same to me.
(EMMA _stays by right of table._)
ALLEYNE. How is it with you, Mrs. Ormerod?
SARAH. It might be worse. A've lost th' use o' my 'ands, and
they're takin' me to workus, but A'm not dead yet, and that's
summat to be thankul for.
ALLEYNE. Oh, yes, yes, Mrs. Ormerod. The--er--message I am to
deliver is, I fear, not quite what Mr. Blundell led you to hope
for. His efforts on your behalf have--er--- unfortunately failed.
He finds himself obliged to give up all hope of aiding you to a
livelihood. In fact--er--I understand that the arrangements made
for your removal to the workhouse this afternoon must be carried
out. It seems there is no alternative. I am grieved to be the
bearer of bad tidings, but I am sure you will find a comfortable
home awaiting you, Mrs.--er--Ormerod.
SARAH. 'Appen A shall an' 'appen A shan't. Theer's no tellin' 'ow
you'll favor a thing till you've tried it.
ALLEYNE. You must resign yourself to the will of Providence. The
consolations of religion are always with us. Shall I pray with
you?
SARAH. A never were much at prayin' when A were well off, an' A
doubt the Lord ud tak' it kind o' selfish o' me if A coom cryin'
to 'im now A'm 'urt.
ALLEYNE. He will understand. Can I do nothing for you?
SARAH. A dunno as tha can, thankin' thee all same.
ALLEYNE. I am privileged with Mr. Blundell's permission to bring
a little gift to you, Mrs. Ormerod. (_Feeling in his coattails
and bringing out a Testament._) Allow me to present you with this
Testament, and may it help you to bear your Cross with resignation.
(_He hands her the Testament._ SARAH _does not raise her hands,
and it drops on her lap._ ALLEYNE _takes it again and puts it on
the table._) Ah, yes, of course--your poor hands--I understand.
SARAH. Thankee kindly. Readin' don't coom easy to me, an' my eyes
aren't what they were, but A'll mak' most of it.
ALLEYNE. You will never read that in vain. And now, dear sister,
I must go. I will pray for strength for you. All will be well.
Good day.
SARAH. Good day to thee.
(_Exit_ ALLEYNE.)
EMMA. Tha doesn't look so pleased wi' tha gift, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. It's not square thing of th' ould Parson, Emma. 'E should
'a' coom an' tould me 'isself. Looks like 'e were feart to do it.
A never could abide them curate lads. We doan't want no grand
Lunnon gentlemen down 'ere. 'E doan't understand us no more than
we understand 'im. 'E means all reeght, poor lad. Sithee, Emma,
A've bin a church-goin' woman all my days. A was browt oop to
church, an' many's th' bit o' brass they've 'ad out o' me in my
time. An' in th' end they send me a fine curate with a tuppenny
Testament. That's all th' good yo' get out o' they folks.
EMMA. We'm chapel to our 'ouse, an' 'e didn't forget to let me
see 'e knaw'd it, but A doan't say as it's ony different wi'
chapels, neither. They get what they can outer yo', but yo'
mustn't look for nothin' back, when th' pinch cooms. (_Clock
outside strikes three._) Sakes alive, theer's clock goin' three.
My dinner 'ull be nice an' cold.
SARAH. Eh, what's that, lass? Dost mean to tell me tha's bin
clemmin' all this time?
EMMA. A coom 'ere straight from factory.
SARAH. Then tha doesn't move till tha's 'ad summat to eat.
EMMA. My dinner's ready for me at whoam, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Then just look sharp an' get it, tha silly lass. Tha 's no
reeght to go wi'out thy baggin'.
EMMA (_putting her shawl on_). All reeght. A'm off.
(_Picks up teapot._)
SARAH. Tha's bin a world o' coomfort to me, Emma. It'll be 'arder
to bear when tha's gone. Th' thowt's too much for me. Eh, lass,
A'm feart o' yon great gaunt building wi' th' drear windows.
EMMA. 'Appen ma moother 'ull coom in. Tha'll do wi' a bit o'
coompany. A 'll ask her to coom an' fetch thee a coop o' tea
bye-an'-bye.
(_A knock at the door._)
SARAH. Who's theer?
SAM (_without_). It's only me, Mrs. Ormerod.
EMMA. A do declare it's that Sam Horrocks again.
SARAH. Sam Horrocks! What can th'lad be after now? (_Calling_) Hast
tha wiped thy boots on scraper?
SAM. Yes, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. Coom in then. (EMMA _in left corner. Enter_ SAM.) Tak' thy
cap off.
SAM. Yes, Mrs. Ormerod.
SARAH. What dost want?
SAM. A've soom business 'ere. A thowt A'd find thee by thysel'.
A'll coom again (_bolting nervously for the door_).
SARAH. Let that door be. Dost say tha's got business 'ere?
SAM. Aye, wi' thee. A'd like a word wi' thee private.
(EMMA _moves to open door._)
SARAH. All reeght. Emma's just goin' to 'er dinner.
EMMA (_speaking through door_). A'll ask my moother to step hi
later on, Mrs. Ormerod, and thank thee very much for th' teapot.
SARAH. A'll be thankful if she'll coom. (_Exit_ EMMA _with teapot._)
Now, Sam Horrocks, what's the matter wi' thee?
SAM (_dropping the cotton-waste he is fumbling with and picking it
up_). It's a fine day for th' time o' th' year.
SARAH. Didst want to see me private to tell me that, lad?
SAM. Naw, not exactly.
SARAH. Well, what is it then? Coom, lad, A'm waitin' on thee. Art
tongue-tied? Can't tha quit mawlin' yon bit o' waste an' tell me
what 'tis tha wants?
SAM (_desperately_). Mebbe it'll not be so fine in th' mornin'.
SARAH. A'll tell thee what A'd do to thee if A 'ad the use o' my
'ands, my lad. A'd coom aside thee and A'd box thy ears. If tha's
got business wi' me, tha'd best state it sharp or A 'll be
showin' thee the shape o' my door.
SAM. Tha do fluster a feller so as A doan't knaw wheer A am. A've
not been nagged like that theer sin' my ould moother died.
SARAH. A've 'eerd folk say Sal Horrocks were a slick un wi' 'er
tongue.
SAM (_admiringly_). She were that. Rare talker she were. She'd lie
theer in 'er bed all day as it might be in yon corner, an' call
me all th' names she could put her tongue to, till A couldn't
tell ma reeght 'and from ma left. (_Still reminiscent._) Wonnerful
sperrit, she 'ad, considerin' she were bed-ridden so long. She
were only a little un an' cripple an' all, but by gum, she could
sling it at a feller if 'er tea weren't brewed to 'er taste.
Talk! She'd talk a donkey's yead off, she would.
SARAH (_on her mettle_). An' A'll talk thy silly yead off an' all
if tha doan't get sharp to tellin' me what tha wants after in my
'ouse, tha great mazed idiot.
SAM. Eh, but she were a rare un.
SARAH. The lad's daft aboot his moother.
SAM (_detachedly, looking at window; pause_). Wunnerful breeght the
sky is, to-day.
SARAH. Tha great 'ulkin' fool. A'd tak' a broomstick to thee
if--if A'd the use o' my 'ands.
SAM. Now, if that isn't just what ma moother used to say.
SARAH. Dang thy moother. An' A doan't mean no disrepect to 'er
neither. She's bin in 'er grave this year an' more, poor woman.
SAM. A canna 'elp thinkin' to 'er all same. Eh, but she were
wunnerful.
SARAH. An' A'd be wunnerful too. A'd talk to thee. A'd call thee
if A were thy moother an' A'd to live aside o' thee neeght an'
day.
SAM (_eagerly_). Eh, by gum, but A wish tha would.
SARAH. Would what?
SAM. Would coom an' live along wi' me.
SARAH. Tha great fool, what does mean? Art askin' me to wed thee?
SAM. A didn't mean to offend thee, Mrs. Ormerod. A'm sorry A
spoke. A allays do wrong thing. But A did so 'ope as tha might
coom. Tha sees A got used to moother. A got used to 'earin' 'er
cuss me. A got used to doin' for 'er an' A've nought to do in th'
evenings now. It's terrible lonesome in th' neeghttime. An' when
notion coom to me, A thowt as A'd mention un to thee casual.
SARAH. Dost mean it, Sam Horrocks? Dost tha know what tha's
sayin', or is tha foolin' me?
SAM. O' course A mean it. Tha sees A'm not a marryin' sort. Th'
lasses won't look at me. A'm silly Sam to them, A knaws it. A've
a slate loose; A shan't never get wed. A thowt A'd mebbe a chance
wi' yon lass as were 'ere wi' thee, but hoo towld me A were too
late. A allays were slow. A left askin' too long an' A 've missed
'er. A gets good money, Mrs. Ormerod, but A canna talk to a young
wench. They mak's me go 'ot and cowld all over. An' when curate
towld me as tha was to go to workus, A thowt A'd a chance wi'
thee. A knaw'd it weren't a big chance, because my plaice ain't
much cop after what tha's bin used to 'ere. A've got no fine
fixin's nor big chairs an' things like as tha used to 'ave. Eh,
but A would 'ave loved to do for thee as A used to do for ma
moother, an' when A yeerd thee talkin' now an' callin' me a fool
an' th' rest, by gum, A just yearned to 'ave thee for allays.
Tha'd fill 'er plaice wunnerful well. A'd just a' loved to adopt
thee.
SARAH. To adopt me?
SAM. Ay, for a moother. A'm sorry tha can't see thy way to let
me. A didn't mean no offence (_turning to the door_).
SARAH. 'Ere, lad, tha tell me this. If A'd said tha might tak' me
for thy moother, what wouldst ha' done?
SAM. Why, kissed thee, an' takken thee oop in ma arms whoam to
thy bed. It's standin' ready in yonder wi' clean sheets an' all,
an' a new quilt from Co-op. A 'opes you'll pardon th' liberty o'
mentioning it.
SARAH. A new quilt, Sam? What's color?
SAM. Red, wi' blue stripes down 'er.
SARAH. A'm not a light weight, tha knows.
SAM. A'd carry thee easy--"Strong in th' arm and weak in th'
yead." It's an ould sayin', but it's a good un, an' it fits.
SARAH. Wilt tha try, Sam Horrocks? God bless thee, wilt tha try,
lad?
SAM. Dost mean it, Mrs. Ormerod? Dost mean tha'll coom? Tha's not
coddin' a feller, art tha?
SARAH. No, A'm not coddin'. Kiss me, Sam, my son.
(_He kisses her and lifts her in his arms._)
SAM. By gum, but that were good. A'll coom back fur thy box.
SABAH. Carry me careful, tha great luny. A'm not a sack o' flour.
SAM. Eh, but A likes to year thee talk. Yon was real mootherly,
it were.
(_Exit through door, carrying her._)
[CURTAIN _at clink of latch_]