MRS. HEPWORTH (_sitting in arm-chair_ R. C.). Morning,
Hobson. (_She raises her skirt_.) I've come about those
boots you sent me home.

HOBSON (_kneeling on_ MRS. HEPWORTH'S R., _and fondling
foot_. MAGGIE _is_ C.). Yes, Mrs. Hepworth. They look
very nice.

MRS. HEPWORTH. Get up, Hobson. (_He scrambles up, controlling
his feelings_.) You look ridiculous on the floor. Who made
these boots?

HOBSON. We did. Our own make.

MRS. HEPWORTH. Will you answer a plain question? Who made these
boots?

HOBSON. They were made on the premises.

MRS. HEPWORTH (_to_ MAGGIE). Young woman, you seemed to have
some sense when you served me. Can you answer me?

MAGGIE. I think so, but I'll make sure for you, Mrs. Hepworth.
(_She opens trap and calls_.) Tubby!

HOBSON (_down_ R.). You wish to see the identical workman,
madam?

MRS. HEPWORTH. I said so.