(MAGGIE _points to trap. He closes it_.)

MAGGIE. Show me your hands, Willie.

WILLIE. They're dirty. (_He holds them out hesitatingly_.)

MAGGIE. Yes, they're dirty, but they're clever. They can shape
the leather like no other man's that ever came into the shop. Who
taught you, Willie? (_She retains his hands_.)

WILLIE. Why, Miss Maggie, I learnt my trade here.

MAGGIE. Hobson's never taught you to make boots the way you do.

WILLIE. I've had no other teacher.

MAGGIE (_dropping his hands_.) And needed none. You're a
natural born genius at making boots. It's a pity you're a natural
fool at all else.

WILLIE. I'm not much good at owt but leather, and that's a fact.

MAGGIE. When are you going to leave Hobson's?

WILLIE. Leave Hobson's? I--I thought I gave satisfaction.

MAGGIE. Don't you want to leave?

WILLIE. Not me. I've been at Hobson's all my life, and I'm not
for leaving till I'm made.