your daughters worry you, Jim?

JIM. Nay,--(_sits_ R. C.)--they mostly do as I bid them, and
the missus does the leathering if they don't.

HOBSON. Ah, Jim, a wife's a handy thing, and you don't know it
proper till she's taken from you. I felt grateful for the quiet
when my Mary fell on rest, but I can see my mistake now. I used
to think I was hard put to it to fend her off when she wanted
summat out of me, but the dominion of one woman is Paradise to
the dominion of three.

JIM. It sounds a sad case, Henry.

HOBSON. I'm a talkative man by nature, Jim. You know that.

JIM. You're an orator, Henry. I doubt John Bright himself is
better gifted of the gab than you.

HOBSON. Nay, that's putting it a bit too strong. A good case
needs no flattery.

JIM. Well, you're the best debater in the "Moonraker's" parlour.

HOBSON. And that's no more than truth. Yes, Jim, in the estimation
of my fellow men, I give forth words of weight. In the eyes of my
daughters I'm a windbag. (_Rises and moves down_ L.).

JIM. Nay. Never!