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.