The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 53
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mustn't look for nothin' back, when th' pinch cooms. (_Clock outside strikes three._) Sakes alive, theer's clock goin' three.
My dinner 'ull be nice an' cold.
SARAH. Eh, what's that, la.s.s? 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 la.s.s. 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, la.s.s, 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 sc.r.a.per?
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 fl.u.s.ter 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.
SAM (_admiringly_). She were that. Rare talker she were. She'd lie theer in 'er bed all day as it might be in yon corner, an' call me all th' names she could put her tongue to, till A couldn't tell ma reeght 'and from ma left. (_Still reminiscent._) Wonnerful sperrit, she 'ad, considerin' she were bed-ridden so long. She were only a little un an' cripple an' all, but by gum, she could sling it at a feller if 'er tea weren't brewed to 'er taste.
Talk! She'd talk a donkey's yead off, she would.
SARAH (_on her mettle_). An' A'll talk thy silly yead off an' all if tha doan't get sharp to tellin' me what tha wants after in my 'ouse, tha great mazed idiot.
SAM. Eh, but she were a rare un.
SARAH. The lad's daft aboot his moother.
SAM (_detachedly, looking at window; pause_). Wunnerful breeght the sky is, to-day.
SARAH. Tha great 'ulkin' fool. A'd tak' a broomstick to thee if--if A'd the use o' my 'ands.
SAM. Now, if that isn't just what ma moother used to say.
SARAH. Dang thy moother. An' A doan't mean no disrepect to 'er neither. She's bin in 'er grave this year an' more, poor woman.
SAM. A canna 'elp thinkin' to 'er all same. Eh, but she were wunnerful.
SARAH. An' A'd be wunnerful too. A'd talk to thee. A'd call thee if A were thy moother an' A'd to live aside o' thee neeght an'
day.
SAM (_eagerly_). Eh, by gum, but A wish tha would.
SARAH. Would what?
SAM. Would coom an' live along wi' me.
SARAH. Tha great fool, what does mean? Art askin' me to wed thee?
The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 53
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The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 53 summary
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