Chapter 5

_The scene represents_ HOBSON'S _living-room, the door to which was seen in Act I. From inside the room that door is now seen to be at the left, the opposite wall having the fire-place and another door to the house.

It is eight o'clock on a morning a year later.

In front of the fire-place is a horsehair arm-chair. Chairs to match are at the table. There are coloured prints of Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort on the walls on each side of the door at the back, and a plain one of Lord Beaconsfield over the fire-place. Antimacassars abound, and the decoration is quaintly ugly. It is an overcrowded, "cosy" room_. HOBSON _is quite contented with it, and doesn't realize that it is at present very dirty.

There is probably a kitchen elsewhere, but_ TUBBY WADLOW _is cooking bacon at the fire. He is simultaneously laying breakfast for one on the table. At both proceedings he is a puzzled and incompetent amateur. Presently the left door opens, and_ JIM HEELER _appears_.

JIM (_crossing_). I'll go straight up to him, Tubby.

TUBBY (_checking him_). He's getting up, Mr. Heeler.

JIM. Getting up! Why, you said--

TUBBY. I told you what he told me to tell you. Run for Doctor MacFarlane, he said. And I ran for Doctor MacFarlane. Now go to Mr. Heeler, he said, and tell him I'm very ill, and I came and told you. Then he said he would get up, and I was to have his breakfast ready for him, and he'd see you down here. (_Goes to fire_, R.)

JIM (_moving towards door up_ R.). Nonsense, Tubby. Of course, I'll go up to him.

TUBBY. You know what he is, sir. I'll get blamed if you go, and he's short-tempered this morning.

JIM. I don't want to get you into trouble, Tubby. (_He sits_ R. _of table_.)

TUBBY. Thank you, Mr. Heeler. (_Puts bacon on plate and plate down on the hearth_.)

JIM. I quite thought it was something serious.

TUBBY. If you ask me, it is. (_Coming back to table_.)

JIM. Which way?

TUBBY (_cutting bread_). Every way you look at it. Mr. Hobson's not his own old self, and the shop's not its own old self, and look at me. Now I ask you, Mr. Heeler, man to man, is this work for a foreman shoe hand? Cooking and laying tables and--

JIM. By all accounts there's not much else for you to do.

TUBBY. There's better things than being a housemaid, if it's only making clogs. (_Crosses to fire to toast_.)

JIM. They tell me clogs are a cut line.

TUBBY. Well, what are you to do? There's nothing else wanted. (_Turns_.) Hobson's in a bad way, and I'm telling no secret when I say it. It's a fact that's known.

JIM. It's a thousand pities with an old-established trade like this.

TUBBY. And who's to blame?

JIM. I don't think you ought to discuss that with me, Tubby.

TUBBY. Don't you? I'm an old servant of the master's, and I'm sticking to him now when everybody's calling me a doting fool because I don't look after Tubby Wadlow first, and if that don't give me the right to say what I please, I don't know. It's temper's ruining this shop, Mr. Heeler. Temper and obstinacy.

JIM. They say in Chapel Street it's Willie Mossop.

TUBBY. Willie's a good lad, though I say it that trained him. He hit us hard, did Willie, but we'd have got round that in time. With care, you understand, and tact. Tact. That's what the gaffer lacks. Miss Maggie, now ... well, she's a marvel, aye, a fair knock-out. Not slavish, mind you. Stood up to the customers all the time, but she'd a way with her that sold the goods and made them come again for more. Look at us now. Men assistants in the shop.

JIM. Cost more than women.

TUBBY. Cost? They'd be dear at any price. Look here, Mr. Heeler, take yourself. When you go to buy a pair of boots do you like to be tried on by a man or a nice soft young woman?

JIM. Well--

TUBBY. There you are. Stands to reason. It's human nature.

JIM. But there are two sides to that, Tubby. Look at the other.

TUBBY. Ladies?

JIM. Yes.

TUBBY. Ladies that are ladies wants trying on by their own sex, and them that aren't buys clogs. It's the good-class trade that pays, and Hobson's have lost it.

(_Enter_ HOBSON _up_ R., _unshaven, without collar. He comes down stage between them_.)

JIM (_with cheerful sympathy_). Well, Henry!

HOBSON (_with acute melancholy and self-pity_). Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim!

TUBBY. Will you sit on the arm-chair by the fire or at the table?

HOBSON. The table? Breakfast? Bacon? Bacon, and I'm like this.

(JIM _assists him to arm-chair_.)

JIM. When a man's like this he wants a woman about the house, Henry.

HOBSON (_sitting_). I'll want then.

TUBBY. Shall I go for Miss Maggie, sir?--Mrs. Mossop, I mean.

JIM. I think your daughters should be here.

HOBSON. They should. Only they're not. They're married, and I'm deserted by them all and I'll die deserted, then perhaps they'll be sorry for the way they've treated me. Tubby, have you got no work to do in the shop?

TUBBY. I might find some if I looked hard.

HOBSON. Then go and look. And take that bacon with you. I don't like the smell.

TUBBY (_getting bacon_). Are you sure you wouldn't like Miss Maggie here? I'll go for her and--(_He holds the bacon very close to_ HOBSON'S _face_.)

HOBSON. Oh, go for her. Go for the devil. What does it matter who you go for? I'm a dying man.

(TUBBY _takes bacon and goes out_ L.)

JIM. What's all this talk about dying, Henry?

HOBSON. Oh, Jim! Oh, Jim! I've sent for the doctor. We'll know soon how near the end is.

JIM. Well, this is very sudden. (_Sits chair,_ R.) You've never been ill in your life.

HOBSON. It's been saved up, and all come now at once.

JIM. What are your symptoms, Henry?

HOBSON. I'm all one symptom, head to foot. I'm frightened of myself, Jim. That's worst. You would call me a clean man, Jim?

JIM. Clean? Of course I would. Clean in body and mind.

HOBSON. I'm dirty now. I haven't washed this morning. Couldn't face the water. The only use I saw for water was to drown myself. The same with shaving. I've thrown my razor through the window. Had to or I'd have cut my throat.

JIM. Oh, come, come.

HOBSON. It's awful. I'll never trust myself again. I'm going to grow a beard--if I live.

JIM. You'll cheat the undertaker, Henry, but I fancy a doctor could improve you. What do you reckon is the cause of it now?

HOBSON. "Moonraker's."

JIM. You don't think--

HOBSON. I don't think. I know. I've seen it happen to others, but I never thought that it would come to me.

JIM. Nor me, neither. You're not a toper, Henry. I grant you're regular, but you don't exceed. It's a hard thing if a man can't take a drop of ale without its getting back at him like this. Why, it might be my turn next.

(TUBBY _enters_ L., _showing in_ DOCTOR MACFARLANE, _a domineering Scotsman of fifty_.)

TUBBY. Here's Doctor MacFarlane. (_Exit_ TUBBY.)

DOCTOR. Good morning, gentlemen. Where's my patient? (_He puts hat on table_.)

JIM (_speaking without indicating_ HOBSON). Here. (_He does not rise_.)

DOCTOR. Here? Up?

HOBSON. Looks like it.

DOCTOR. And for a patient who's downstairs I'm made to rise from my bed at this hour?

JIM. It's not so early as all that.

DOCTOR. But I've been up all night, sir. Young woman with her first. Are you Mr. Hobson?

JIM (_quickly_). Certainly not. I'm not ill.

DOCTOR. Hum. Not much to choose between you. You've both got your fate written on your faces.

JIM. Do you mean that I--? (_Rises_.)

DOCTOR. I mean he has and you will.

HOBSON. Doctor, will you attend to me?

(JIM _moves round_ HOBSON'S _arm-chair to up stage and then to_ L. _of table_.)

DOCTOR. Yes. Now, sir. (_He sits by him and holds his wrist_.)

HOBSON. I've never been in a bad way before this morning. Never wanted a doctor in my life.

DOCTOR. You've needed. But you've not sent.

HOBSON. But this morning--

DOCTOR. I ken--well.

HOBSON. What! You know!

DOCTOR. Any fool would ken.

HOBSON. Eh?

DOCTOR. Any fool but one fool and that's yourself.

HOBSON. You're damned polite.

DOCTOR. If ye want flattery, I dare say ye can get it from your friend. I'm giving you ma medical opinion.

HOBSON. I want your opinion on my complaint, not on my character.

DOCTOR. Your complaint and your character are the same.

HOBSON. Then you'll kindly separate them and you'll tell me--

DOCTOR (_rising and taking up hat_). I'll tell you nothing, sir. I don't diagnose as my patients wish, but as my intellect and sagacity direct. Good morning to you. (_Turns_ L.)

JIM (_meeting him below table_). But you have not diagnosed.

DOCTOR. Sir, if I am to interview a patient in the presence of a third party, the least that third party can do is to keep his mouth shut.

JIM. After that, there's only one thing for it. He shifts or I do.

HOBSON. You'd better go, Jim.

JIM. There are other doctors, Henry.

HOBSON. I'll keep this one. I've got to teach him a lesson. Scotchmen can't come over Salford lads this road.

JIM. If that's it, I'll leave you.

HOBSON. That's it. I can bully as well as a foreigner.

(JIM _goes out_ L.)

DOCTOR. That's better, Mr. Hobson. (_He puts hat down and comes back_ R.)

HOBSON. If I'm better, you've not had much to do with it.

DOCTOR. I think my calculated rudeness--

HOBSON. If you calculate your fees at the same rate as your rudeness, they'll be high.

DOCTOR. I calculate by time, Mr. Hobson, so we'd better get to business. Will you unbutton your shirt?

HOBSON (_doing it_). No hanky-panky now.

DOCTOR (_ignoring his remark and examining_). Aye. It just confirms ma first opinion. Ye've had a breakdown this A.M.?

HOBSON. You might say so.

DOCTOR. Melancholic? Depressed?

HOBSON (_buttoning shirt_). Question was whether the razor would beat me, or I'd beat razor. I won, that time. The razor's in the yard. But I'll never dare to try shaving myself again.

DOCTOR. And do you seriously require me to tell you the cause, Mr. Hobson?

HOBSON. I'm paying thee brass to tell me.

DOCTOR. Chronic alcoholism, if you know that what means.

HOBSON. Aye.

DOCTOR. A serious case.

HOBSON. I know it's serious. What do you think you're here for? It isn't to tell me something I know already. It's to cure me.

DOCTOR. Very well. I will write you a prescription. (_Produces notebook. Sits at table and writes with copying pencil_.)

HOBSON. Stop that!

DOCTOR. I beg your pardon?

HOBSON. I won't take it. None of your druggist's muck for me. I'm particular about what I put into my stomach.

DOCTOR. Mr. Hobson, if you don't mend your manners, I'll certify you for a lunatic asylum. Are you aware that you've drunk yourself within six months of the grave? You'd a warning this morning that any sane man would listen to and you're going to listen to it, sir.

HOBSON. By taking your prescription?

DOCTOR. Precisely. You will take this mixture, Mr. Hobson, and you will practise total abstinence for the future.

HOBSON. You ask me to give up my reasonable refreshment!

DOCTOR. I forbid alcohol absolutely. (_Starts writing_.)

HOBSON. Much use your forbidding is. I've had my liquor for as long as I remember, and I'll have it to the end. If I'm to be beaten by beer I'll die fighting, and I'm none practising unnatural teetotalism for the sake of lengthening out my unalcoholic days. Life's got to be worth living before I'll live it.

DOCTOR (_rising and taking hat again_). If that's the way you talk, my services are of no use to you. (_Moves down_ L.)

HOBSON. They're not. I'll pay you on the nail for this. (_Rising and sorting money from pocket_.)

DOCTOR. I congratulate you on the impulse, Mr. Hobson.

HOBSON. Nay, it's a fair deal, doctor. I've had value. You've been a tonic to me. When I got up I never thought to see the "Moonraker's" again, but I'm ready for my early morning draught this minute. (_Holds out money_.)

DOCTOR (_putting hat down, moving to_ HOBSON _and talking earnestly_). Man, will ye no be warned? Ye pig-headed animal, alcohol is poison to ye, deadly, virulent with a system in the state yours is.

HOBSON. You're getting warm about it. Will you take your fee? (_Holding out money_.)

DOCTOR. Yes. When I've earned it. Put it in your pocket, Mr. Hobson. I hae na finished with ye yet.

HOBSON. I thought you had. (_Sits again_.)

DOCTOR (_up to_ HOBSON, R.). Do ye ken that ye're defying me? Ye'll die fighting, will ye? Aye, it's a gay, high-sounding sentiment, ma mannie, but ye'll no dae it, do ye hear? Ye'll no slip from me now. I've got ma grip on ye. Ye'll die sober, and ye'll live the longest time ye can before ye die. Have ye a wife, Mr. Hobson?

(HOBSON _points upwards_.)

In bed?

HOBSON. Higher than that.

DOCTOR. It's a pity. A man like you should keep a wife handy.

HOBSON. I'm not so partial to women.

DOCTOR. Women are a necessity, sir. Have ye no female relative that can manage ye?

HOBSON. Manage?

DOCTOR. Keep her thumb firm on ye?

HOBSON. I've got three daughters, Doctor MacFarlane, and they tried to keep their thumbs on me.

DOCTOR. Well? Where are they?

HOBSON. Married--and queerly married.

DOCTOR. You drove them to it.

HOBSON. They all grew uppish. Maggie worst of all.

DOCTOR. Maggie? Then I'll tell ye what ye'll do, Mr. Hobson. You will get Maggie back. At any price. At all costs to your pride, as your medical man I order you to get Maggie back. (_Movement from_ HOBSON.) I don't know Maggie, but I prescribe her, and--damn ye, sir, are ye going to defy me again?

HOBSON. I tell you I won't have it.

DOCTOR. You'll have to have it. You're a dunderheaded lump of obstinacy, but I've taken a fancy to ye and I decline to let ye kill yeself.

HOBSON. I've escaped from the thraldom of women once, and--

DOCTOR. And a pretty mess you've made of your liberty. Now this Maggie ye mention--if ye'll tell me where she's to be found, I'll just step round and have a crack with her maself, for I've gone beyond the sparing of a bit of trouble over ye.

HOBSON. You'll waste your time.

DOCTOR. I'll cure you, Mr. Hobson. (_Crosses to_ C. _and turns_.)

HOBSON. She won't come back.

DOCTOR. Oh. Now that's a possibility. If she's a sensible body I concur with your opinion she'll no come back, but women are a soft-hearted race and she'll maybe take pity on ye after all.

HOBSON. I want no pity.

DOCTOR. If she's the woman that I take her for ye'll get no pity. Ye'll get discipline.

(HOBSON _rises and tries to speak_.)

Don't interrupt me, sir. I'm talking.

HOBSON. I've noticed it. (_Sits_.)

DOCTOR. You asked me for a cure, and Maggie's the name of the cure you need. Maggie, sir, do you hear? Maggie!

(_Enter_ MAGGIE L., _in outdoor clothes_.)

MAGGIE. What about me?

DOCTOR (_staggered, then_). Are you Maggie?

MAGGIE. I'm Maggie.

DOCTOR. Ye'll do.

HOBSON (_getting his breath_). What are you doing under my roof?

MAGGIE. I've come because I was fetched. (_Coming_ C.)

HOBSON. Who fetched you?

MAGGIE. Tubby Wadlow.

HOBSON (_rising_). Tubby can quit my shop this minute.

DOCTOR (_putting him back_). Sit down, Mr. Hobson.

MAGGIE. He said you're dangerously ill.

DOCTOR. He is. I'm Doctor MacFarlane. (_Coming_ C.) Will you come and live here again?

MAGGIE. I'm married.

DOCTOR. I know that, Mrs.--

MAGGIE. Mossop.

DOCTOR. Your father's drinking himself to death, Mrs. Mossop.

HOBSON. Look here, Doctor, what's passed between you and me isn't for everybody's ears.

DOCTOR. I judge your daughter's not the sort to want the truth wrapped round with a feather-bed for fear it hits her hard.

MAGGIE (_nodding appreciatively_). Go on. I'd like to hear it all. (_Goes to and sits in chair_ R. _of table_.)

HOBSON. Just nasty-minded curiosity.

DOCTOR. I don't agree with you, Mr. Hobson. If Mrs. Mossop is to sacrifice her own home to come to you, she's every right to know the reason why.

HOBSON. Sacrifice! If you saw her home you'd find another word than that. Two cellars in Oldfield Road.

MAGGIE. I'm waiting, Doctor.

DOCTOR. I've a constitutional objection to seeing patients slip through ma fingers when it's avoidable, Mrs. Mossop, and I'll do ma best for your father, but ma medicine will na do him any good without your medicine to back me up. He needs a tight hand on him all the time.

MAGGIE. I've not same chance I had before I married.

DOCTOR. Ye'll have no chance at all unless ye come and live here. I willna talk about the duty of a daughter because I doubt he's acted badly by ye, but on the broad grounds of humanity, it's saving life if ye'll come--

MAGGIE. I might.

DOCTOR. Nay, but will ye?

MAGGIE. You've told me what you think. The rest's my business. (_Rises and goes_ L.)

HOBSON. That's right, Maggie. (_To_ DOCTOR.) That's what you get for interfering with folks' private affairs. So now you can go, with your tail between your legs, Doctor MacFarlane.

DOCTOR. On the contrary, I am going, Mr. Hobson, with the profound conviction that I leave you in excellent hands. (R. _of table_.) One prescription is on the table, Mrs. Mossop. The other two are total abstinence and--you.

MAGGIE (_nodding amiably_). Good morning.

DOCTOR. Good morning.

(_Exit_ DOCTOR L. MAGGIE _picks up prescription and follows to door_, L.) MAGGIE. Tubby!

(_She stands by door_, TUBBY _just enters inside it_.)

Go round to Oldfield Road and ask my husband to come here and get this made up at Hallow's on your way back.

TUBBY. Yes, Miss--Mrs. Mossop.

MAGGIE. Tell Mr. Mossop that I want him quick.

(TUBBY _nods and goes_. MAGGIE _goes_ R.)

HOBSON. Maggie, you know I can't be an abstainer. A man of my habits. At my time of life.

MAGGIE. You can if I come here to make you.

HOBSON. Are you coming?

MAGGIE. I don't know yet. I haven't asked my husband.

HOBSON. You ask Will Mossop! Maggie, I'd better thoughts of you. Making an excuse like that to me. If you want to come you'll come so what Will Mossop says and well you know it.

MAGGIE. I don't want to come, father. I expect no holiday existence here with you to keep in health. But if Will tells me it's my duty I shall come. (_Sits_ R. _of table_.)

HOBSON. You know as well as I do asking Will's a matter of form.

MAGGIE. Matter of form! (_Rises and moves_ R.) My husband a matter of form! He's the--

HOBSON. I dare say, but he is not the man that wears the breeches at your house.

MAGGIE. My husband's my husband, father, so whatever else he is. And my home's my home, and all and what you said of it now to Doctor MacFarlane's a thing you'll pay for. It's no gift to a married woman to come back to the home she's shut of. (_Moves back_ R. C.)

HOBSON. Look here, Maggie, you're talking straight and I'll talk straight and all. When I'm set I'm set. You're coming here. I didn't want you when that doctor said it, but, by gum, I want you now. It's been my daughters' hobby crossing me. Now you'll come and look after me.

MAGGIE. All of us?

HOBSON. No. Not all of you. You're eldest.

MAGGIE. There's another man with claims on me.

HOBSON. I'll give him claims. Aren't I your father?

(ALICE _enters_ L. _She is rather elaborately dressed for so early in the day, and languidly haughty_.)

MAGGIE. And I'm not your only daughter.

ALICE. You been here long, Maggie?

MAGGIE. A while.

ALICE (L.C.). Ah, well, a fashionable solicitor's wife doesn't rise so early as the wife of a working cobbler. You'd be up when Tubby came.

MAGGIE. A couple of hours earlier. (_Moves up_ R.)

ALICE (_going to_ HOBSON). You're looking all right, father. You've quite a colour.

HOBSON. I'm very ill.

MAGGIE (_sitting_ R. _of table_). He's not so well, Alice. The doctor says one of us must come and live here to look after him.

ALICE. I live in the Crescent myself.

MAGGIE. I've heard it was that way on. Somebody's home will have to go.

ALICE. I don't think I can be expected to come back to this after what I've been used to lately.

HOBSON. Alice!

ALICE. Well, I say it ought to be Maggie, father. She's the eldest. (_Moves to above table_.)

HOBSON. And I say you're--

(_What she is we don't learn, as_ VICKEY _enters effectively and goes effusively to_ HOBSON, R. ALICE _moves round to_ L.)

VICKEY. Father, you're ill! (_Embracing him_.)

HOBSON. Vickey! My baby! At last I find a daughter who cares for me.

VICKEY. Of course I care. Don't the others? (_Releasing herself from his grasp_.)

HOBSON. You will live with me, Vickey, won't you?

VICKEY. What? (_She stands away from him_.)

MAGGIE. One of us is needed to look after him.

VICKEY. Oh, but it can't be me. In my circumstances, Maggie!

MAGGIE. What circumstances?

ALICE. Don't you know?

MAGGIE. No.

(VICKEY _whispers to_ MAGGIE.)

HOBSON. What's the matter? What are you all whispering about?

MAGGIE. Father, don't you think you ought to put a collar on before Will comes? (_Goes to him_, R.)

HOBSON. Put a collar on for Will Mossop? There's something wrong with your sense of proportion, my girl.

VICKEY (_moving_ C.). You're always pretending to folk about your husband, Maggie, but you needn't keep it up with us. We know Will here.

MAGGIE. Father, either I can go home or you can go and put a collar on for Will. I'll have him treated with respect. (_Going up to window_.)

ALICE. I expect you'd put a collar on in any case, father.

HOBSON (_rising_). Of course I should. I'm going to put a collar on. But understand me, Maggie, it's not for the sake of Will Mossop. It's because my neck is cold.

(_Exit_ HOBSON R.)

MAGGIE (_coming down_). Now, then, which of us is it to be?

VICKEY. It's no use looking at me like that, Maggie. I've told you I'm expecting.

MAGGIE. I don't see that that rules you out. It might happen to any of us.

ALICE. Maggie!

MAGGIE. What's the matter? Children do happen to married women, and we're all married.

ALICE. Well, I'm not going to break my home up and that's flat.

VICKEY. My child comes first with me.

MAGGIE. I see. You've got a house of furniture, and you've got a child coming, so father can drink himself to death for you.

ALICE. That's not fair speaking. I'd come if there were no one else. You know very well it's your duty, Maggie.

VICKEY. Duty? I should think it 'ud be a pleasure to live here after a year of two cellars.

MAGGIE. I've had thirty years of the pleasure of living with father, thanks. (_Going to chair_ R. _of table and sitting_.)

ALICE. Do you mean to say you won't come?

MAGGIE. It isn't for me to say at all. It's for my husband.

VICKEY. Oh, do stop talking about your husband. If Alice and I don't need to ask our husbands, I'm sure you never need ask yours. Will Mossop hasn't the spirit of a louse and we know it as well as you do. (_Crosses to fire-place_.)

MAGGIE. Maybe Will's come on since you saw him, Vickey. It's getting a while ago. There he is now in the shop. I'll go and put it to him.

(_Rises and exits_ MAGGIE L.)

VICKEY. Stop her! (_Going to door_.)

ALICE (_detaining her_). Let her do it in her own way. I'm not coming back here.

VICKEY (R. _of_ ALICE). Nor me.

ALICE. There's only Maggie for it.

VICKEY. Yes. But we've got to be careful, Alice. She mustn't have things too much her way.

ALICE. It's our way as well, isn't it?

VICKEY. Not coming is our way. But when she's with him alone and we're not--(_Stopping_.)

ALICE. Yes.

VICKEY. Can't you see what I'm thinking, Alice? It is so difficult to say. Suppose poor father gets worse and they are here, Maggie and Will, and you and I--out of sight and out of mind. Can't you see what I mean?

ALICE. He might leave them his money!

VICKEY. That would be most unfair to us.

ALICE. Father must make his will at once. Albert shall draw it up. (_Goes_ R.)

VICKEY. That's it, Alice. And don't let's leave Maggie too long with Will. She's only telling him what to say, and then she'll pretend he thought of it himself. (_She opens door left_.) Why, Will, what are you doing up the ladder?

WILLIE (_off_ L). I'm looking over the stock.

VICKEY (_indignantly_). It's father's stock, not yours.

WILLIE. That's so. But if I'm to come into a thing I like to know what I'm coming into.

ALICE. That's never Willie Mossop.

VICKEY (_still by door_). Are you coming into this?

(WILL _enters_ L. MAGGIE _follows him. He is not aggressive, but he is prosperous and has self-confidence. Against_ ALICE _and_ VICKEY _he is consciously on his mettle_.)

WILLIE. That's the proposal, isn't it?

VICKEY (C.). I didn't know it was.

WILLIE. Now, then, Maggie, go and bring your father down and be sharp. I'm busy at my shop, so what they are at his.

(MAGGIE _takes_ WILL'S _hat off and puts it on settee, then exits up_ R.)

It's been a good business in its day, too, has Hobson's.

ALICE. What on earth do you mean? It's a good business still.

WILLIE. You try to sell it, and you'd learn. Stock and goodwill 'ud fetch about two hundred. (_Goes_ C.)

VICKEY. Don't talk so foolish, Will. Two hundred for a business like father's!

WILLIE. Two hundred as it is. Not as it was in our time, Vickey.

ALICE. Do you mean to tell me father isn't rich?

WILLIE. If you'd not married into the law you'd know what they think of your father to-day in trading circles. Vickey ought to know. Her husband's in trade.

VICKEY (_indignantly_). My Fred in trade!

WILLIE. Isn't he?

VICKEY. He's in the wholesale. That's business, not trade. And the value of father's shop is no affair of yours, Will Mossop. (_Moves_ L.)

WILLIE. Now I thought maybe it was. If Maggie and me are coming here--

VICKEY. You're coming to look after father.

WILLIE. Maggie can do that with one hand tied behind her back. I'll look after the business.

ALICE. You'll do what's arranged for you.

WILLIE. I'll do the arranging, Alice. If we come here, we come here on my terms.

VICKEY. They'll be fair terms.

WILLIE. I'll see they're fair to me and Maggie. (_Goes_ R.)

ALICE. Will Mossop, do you know who you're talking to?

WILLIE (_turning_). Aye. My wife's young sisters. Times have changed a bit since you used to order me about this shop, haven't they, Alice?

ALICE. Yes. I'm Mrs. Albert Prosser now.

WILLIE. So you are, to outsiders. And you'd be surprised the number of people that call me Mr. Mossop now. We do get on in the world, don't we? (ALICE _moves up stage_.)

VICKEY. Some folks get on too fast.

WILLIE. It's a matter of opinion. (_Coming_ C.) I know Maggie and me gave both of you a big leg up when we arranged your marriage portions, but I dunno that we're grudging you the sudden lift you got.

(_Enter_ HOBSON _and_ MAGGIE.)

WILLIE. Good morning, father. I'm sorry to hear you're not so well.

HOBSON. I'm a changed man, Will. (_He comes down and sits on arm-chair_, R.)

WILLIE. There used to be room for improvement.

HOBSON. What! (_He starts up_.)

MAGGIE. Sit down, father.

WILLIE (_sitting_ R. _of table_). Aye. Don't let us be too long about this. You've kept me waiting now a good while and my time's valuable. I'm busy at my shop.

HOBSON. Is your shop more important than my life?

WILLIE. That's a bit like asking if a pound of tea weighs heavier than a pound of lead. I'm worrited about your life because it worrits Maggie, but I'm none worrited that bad I'll see my business suffer for the sake of you.

HOBSON. This isn't what I've a right to expect from you, Will.

WILLIE. You've no _right_ to expect I care whether you sink or swim.

MAGGIE. Will!

WILLIE. What's to do? You told me to take a high hand, didn't you?

(MAGGIE _sits down_ R.)

ALICE. And we're to stay here and watch Maggie and Will abusing father when he's ill.

(_Positions now_: MAGGIE _sitting down_ R., HOBSON _sitting in armchair_, ALICE _standing behind and between them_, VICKEY _standing_ L. _of table_.)

WILLIE. No need for you to stay.

HOBSON. That's a true word, Will Mossop.

VICKEY. Father! You take his side against your flesh and blood.

HOBSON. That doesn't come too well from you, my girl. Neither of you would leave your homes to come to care for me. You're not for me, so you're against me.

ALICE. We're not against you, father. We want to stay and see that Will deals fairly by you.

HOBSON. Oh, I'm not capable of looking after myself, amn't I? I've to be protected by you girls lest I'm overreached, and overreached by whom? By Willie Mossop! I may be ailing, but I've fight enough left in me for a dozen such as him, and if you're thinking that the manhood's gone from me, you can go and think it somewhere else than in my house.

VICKEY. But father--dear father--

HOBSON. I'm not so dear to you if you'd to think twice about coming here to do for me, let alone jibbing at it the way you did. A proper daughter would have jumped--aye, skipped like a calf by the cedars of Lebanon--at the thought of being helpful to her father.

ALICE. Did Maggie skip?

HOBSON. She's a bit ancient for skipping exercise, is Maggie; but she's coming round to reconcilement with the thought of living here, and that is more than you are doing, Alice, isn't it? Eh? Are you willing to come?

ALICE (_sullenly_). No.

HOBSON. Or you, Vickey?

VICKEY. It's my child, father. I--

HOBSON. Never mind what it is. Are you coming or not?

VICKEY. No.

HOBSON. Then you that aren't willing can leave me to talk with them that are.

ALICE. Do you mean that we're to go?

HOBSON. I understand you've homes to go to.

ALICE. Oh, father!

HOBSON. Open the door for them, Will.

(WILL _rises, crosses, and opens door_. ALICE _and_ VICKEY _stare in silent anger. Then_ ALICE _sweeps to her gloves on the table_.)

ALICE. Vickey!

(ALICE _moves on towards door_.)

VICKEY. Well, I don't know!

MAGGIE (_from her chair by the fire-place_). We'll be glad to see you here at tea-time on a Sunday afternoon if you'll condescend to come sometimes.

VICKEY. Beggars on horseback.

(VICKEY _and_ ALICE _pass out_.)

WILL (_closing door_). Nay, come, there's no ill-will. (He _returns to table and sits_ R. _of it_.)

HOBSON. Now, my lad, I'll tell you what I'll do.

WILLIE. Aye, we can come to grips better now there are no fine ladies about.

HOBSON. They've got stiff necks with pride, and the difference between you two and them's a thing I ought to mark and that I'm going to mark. There's times for holding back and times for letting loose, and being generous. Now, you're coming here, to this house, both of you, and you can have the back bedroom for your own and the use of this room split along with me. Maggie 'ull keep house, and if she's time to spare she can lend a hand in the shop. I'm finding Will a job. You can come back to your old bench in the cellar, Will, and I'll pay you the old wage of eighteen shillings a week and you and me 'ull go equal whacks in the cost of the housekeeping, and if that's not handsome, I dunno what is. I'm finding you a house rent free and paying half the keep of your wife.

WILLIE. Come home, Maggie. (_He rises, goes_ L.)

MAGGIE. I think I'll have to. (_She rises_.)

HOBSON. Whatever's the hurry for?

WILLIE. It may be news to you--(_moving a little_ R.),--but I've a business round in Oldfield Road and I'm neglecting it with wasting my time here.

HOBSON. Wasting time? Maggie, what's the matter with Will? I've made him a proposal.

MAGGIE. He's a shop of his own to see to, father.

HOBSON. (_incredulous_). A man who's offered a job at Hobson's doesn't want to worry with a shop of his own in a wretched cellar in Oldfield Road.

WILLIE. Shall I tell him, Maggie, or shall we go?

HOBSON. Go! I don't want to keep a man who--(_Rises_.)

MAGGIE. If he goes, I go with him, father. You'd better speak out, Will.

WILLIE. All right, I will. We've been a year in yon wretched cellar and do you know what we've done? We've paid off Mrs. Hepworth what she lent us for our start and made a bit o' brass on top o' that. We've got your high-class trade away from you. That shop's a cellar, and as you say, it's wretched, but they come to us in it, and they don't come to you. Your trade's gone down till all you sell is clogs. You've got no trade, and me and Maggie's got it all and now you're on your bended knees to her to come and live with you, and all you think to offer me is my old job at eighteen shillings a week. Me that's the owner of a business that is starving yours to death.

HOBSON. But--but--you're Will Mossop, you're my old shoe hand.

WILLIE. Aye. I were, but I've moved on a bit since then. Your daughter married me and set about my education. And--and now I'll tell you what I'll do and it'll be the handsome thing and all from me to you. I'll close my shop--

HOBSON. Oh! That doesn't sound like doing so well.

WILLIE. I'm doing well, but I'll do better here. I'll transfer to this address and what I'll do that's generous is this: I'll take you into partnership and give you your half-share on the condition you're sleeping partner and you don't try interference on with me. (_Goes_ L.)

HOBSON. A partner! You--here--

WILLIE. William Mossop, late Hobson, is the name this shop 'ull have.

MAGGIE. Wait a bit, Will. I don't agree to that.

HOBSON (_over to her_). Oh, so you have piped up at last. I began to think you'd both lost your senses together.

MAGGIE. It had better not be "late Hobson."

WILLIE (L. C.). Well, I meant it should.

HOBSON. Just wait a bit. I want to know if I'm taking this in aright. (_Moves_ R. C.) I'm to be given a half-share in my own business on condition I take no part in running it. Is that what you said?

WILLIE. That's it.

HOBSON. Well, I've heard of impudence before, but--

MAGGIE. It's all right, father.

HOBSON. But did you hear what he said?

MAGGIE. Yes. That's settled. Quite settled, father. (_Pushing him_.) It's only the name we're arguing about. (_To_ WILL.) I won't have "late Hobson's", Will.

HOBSON. I'm not dead, yet, my lad, and I'll show you I'm not.

MAGGIE. I think Hobson and Mossop is best.

HOBSON. His name on my sign-board!

WILLIE. The best I'll do is this: Mossop and Hobson.

MAGGIE. No.

WILLIE. Mossop and Hobson or it's Oldfield Road for us, Maggie.

MAGGIE. Very well. Mossop and Hobson.

(WILL _moves_ L.)

HOBSON. But--

(MAGGIE _moves up stage_ R.)

WILLIE (_opening door and looking through_). I'll make some alterations in this shop, and all. I will so. (_He goes through door and returns at once with a battered cane chair_.)

HOBSON. Alterations in my shop! (_Goes_ C.)

WILLIE. In mine. Look at that chair. How can you expect the high-class customers to come and sit on a chair like that? Why, we'd only a cellar, but they did sit on cretonne for their trying on.

HOBSON. Cretonne! It's pampering folk.

(MAGGIE _comes down stage_ R.)

WILLIE. Cretonne for a cellar, and morocco for this shop. Folk like to be pampered. Pampering pays. (_He takes the chair out and returns immediately_.) There'll be a carpet on that floor, too.

HOBSON. Carpet! Morocco! Young man, do you think this shop is in Saint Ann's Square, Manchester?

WILLIE. Not yet. But it is going to be.

HOBSON. What does he mean? (_Appealing to heaven_.)

WILLIE. It's no farther from Chapel Street to Saint Ann's Square than it is from Oldfield Road to Chapel Street. I've done one jump in a year and if I wait a bit I'll do the other. (HOBSON _sits_ R. _of table_.) Maggie, I reckon your father could do with a bit of fresh air after this. I dare say it's come sudden to him. Suppose you walk with him to Albert Prosser's office and get Albert to draw up the deed of partnership.

HOBSON (_looking pathetically first at_ MAGGIE, _then at_ WILLIE, _rising obediently_). I'll go and get my hat.

(_Exit_ HOBSON R.)

WILLIE. He's crushed-like, Maggie. I'm afraid I bore on him too hard. (_Going_ R. C.)

MAGGIE. You needn't be.

WILLIE. I said such things to him, and they sounded as if I meant them, too.

MAGGIE. Didn't you?

WILLIE. Did I? Yes ... I suppose I did. That's just the worst ... from me to him. You told me to be strong and use the power that's come to me through you, but he's the old master, and--

MAGGIE. And you're the new.

WILLIE. Master of Hobson's! It's an outrageous big idea. Did I sound confident, Maggie?

MAGGIE. You did all right.

WILLIE (_sits_ R. _of table_). Eh, but I weren't by half so certain as I sounded. Words came from my mouth that made me jump at my own boldness, and when it came to facing you about the name, I tell you I fair trembled in my shoes. I was carried away like, or I'd not have dared to cross you, Maggie.

MAGGIE. Don't spoil it, Will. (_Moves to him_.) You're the man I've made you and I'm proud.

WILLIE. Thy pride is not in same street, lass, with the pride I have in you. And that reminds me. (_Rises, moves up and gets his hat_.) I've a job to see to.

MAGGIE. What job?

WILLIE (_coming down_ L.). Oh--about the improvements.

MAGGIE. You'll not do owt without consulting me.

WILLIE. I'll do this, lass. (_Goes to and takes her hand_.)

MAGGIE. What are you doing? You leave my wedding ring alone. (_Wrenches hand free_.)

WILLIE. You've worn a brass one long enough.

MAGGIE. I'll wear that ring for ever, Will.

WILLIE. I was for getting you a proper one, Maggie.

MAGGIE. I'm not preventing you. I'll wear your gold for show, but that brass stays where you put it, Will, and if we get too rich and proud we'll just sit down together quiet and take a long look at it, so as we'll not forget the truth about ourselves ... Eh, lad! (_She touches him affectionately_.)

WILL. Eh, lass! (_He kisses her_.)

(_Enter_ HOBSON R. _with his hat on_.)

MAGGIE. Ready, father. Come along to Albert's.

HOBSON (_meekly_). Yes, Maggie.

(MAGGIE _and_ HOBSON _cross below_ WILL _and go out_ L. WILL _comes down with amazement, triumph and incredulity written on his face, and attempts to express the inexpressible by saying_--)

WILL. Well, by gum! (_He turns to follow the others_.)

CURTAIN.