Hobsons Choice | Page 5

assure you I'm capable of making the man suffer for it. I'll--
(WILLIE MOSSOP comes up trap. He is a lanky fellow, about thirty,
not naturally stupid but stunted mentally by a brutalized childhood. He
is a raw material of a charming man, but, at present, it requires a very
keen eye to detect his potentialities. His clothes are an even poorer
edition of TUBBY'S. He comes half-way up trap.)
MRS. HEPWORTH (standing R. of trap). Are you Mossop?
WILLIE. Yes, mum.
MRS. HEPWORTH. You made these boots?
WILLIE (peering at them). Yes, I made them last week.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Take that.
(WILLIE, bending down, rather expects "that" to be a blow. Then he

raises his head and finds she is holding out a visiting card. He takes it.)
See what's on it?
WILLIE (bending over the card). Writing?
MRS. HEPWORTH. Read it.
WILLIE. I'm trying. (His lips move as he tries to spell it out.)
MRS. HEPWORTH. Bless the man. Can't you read?
WILLIE. I do a bit. Only it's such funny print.
MRS. HEPWORTH. It's the usual italics of a visiting card, my man.
Now listen to me. I heard about this shop, and what I heard brought me
here for these boots. I'm particular about what I put on my feet.
HOBSON (moving slightly towards her). I assure you it shall not occur
again, Mrs. Hepworth.
MRS. HEPWORTH. What shan't?
HOBSON (crestfallen). I--I don't know.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Then hold your tongue. Mossop, I've tried every
shop in Manchester, and these are the best-made pair of boots I've ever
had. Now, you'll make my boots in future. You hear that, Hobson?
(MAGGIE, down L. C., is taking it all in.)
HOBSON. Yes, madam, of course he shall.
MRS. HEPWORTH. You'll keep that card, Mossop, and you won't dare
leave here to go to another shop without letting me know where you
are.
HOBSON. Oh, he won't make a change.

MRS. HEPWORTH. How do you know? The man's a treasure, and I
expect you underpay him.
HOBSON. That'll do, Willie. You can go.
WILLIE. Yes, sir.
(He dives down trap. MAGGIE closes it.)
MRS. HEPWORTH. He's like a rabbit.
MAGGIE. Can I take your order for another pair of boots, Mrs.
Hepworth?
MRS. HEPWORTH. Not yet, young woman. But I shall send my
daughters here. And, mind you, that man's to make the boots. (She
crosses L.)
MAGGIE. (Up at doors and opening them.) Certainly, Mrs. Hepworth.
MRS. HEPWORTH. Good morning.
HOBSON. Good morning, Mrs. Hepworth. Very glad to have the
honour of serving you, madam. (Following her up.)
(She goes out.)
(Angry.) I wish some people would mind their own business. What
does she want to praise a workman to his face for? (Moves down L. and
then to C.)
MAGGIE. I suppose he deserved it.
HOBSON. Deserved be blowed! Making them uppish. That's what it is.
Last time she puts her foot in my shop, I give you my word.
MAGGIE. Don't be silly, father.
HOBSON. I'll show her. Thinks she owns the earth because she lives at

Hope Hall.
(Enter from street JIM HEELER, who is a grocer, and HOBSON'S
boon companion.)
JIM (looking down street as he enters). That's a bit of a startler.
HOBSON (swinging round). Eh? Oh, morning, Jim.
JIM. You're doing a good class trade if the carriage folk come to you,
Hobson. (Moves down L. C.)
HOBSON. What?
JIM. Wasn't that Mrs. Hepworth?
HOBSON. Oh yes. Mrs. Hepworth's an old and valued customer of
mine.
JIM. It's funny you deal with Hope Hall and never mentioned it.
HOBSON. Why, I've made boots for her and all her circle for... how
long, Maggie? Oh, I dunno.
JIM. You kept it dark. Well, aren't you coming round yonder? (Moving
up L.)
HOBSON (reaching for his hat). Yes. That is, no.
JIM. Are you ill?
HOBSON. No. Get away, you girls. I'll look after the shop. I want to
talk to Mr. Heeler.
JIM. Well, can't you talk in the "Moonraker's"!
(The girls go out R. to house, MAGGIE last.)
HOBSON. Yes, with Sam Minns, and Denton and Tudsbury there.

JIM. It's private, then. What's the trouble, Henry?
(HOBSON waves JIM into arm-chair R. C. and sits in front of
counter.)
HOBSON. They're the trouble. (Indicates door to house.) Do your
daughters worry you, Jim?
JIM. Nay,--(sits R. C.)--they mostly do as I bid them, and the missus
does the leathering if they don't.
HOBSON. Ah, Jim, a wife's a handy thing, and you don't know it
proper till she's taken from you. I felt grateful for the quiet when my
Mary fell on rest, but I can see my mistake now. I used to think I was
hard put to it to fend her off when she wanted summat out of me, but
the dominion of one