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?