Hobsons Choice | Page 7

man. Six months I've counted on you and it's got to come out some time.
WILLIE. But I never--
MAGGIE. I know you never, or it 'ud not be left to me to do the job like this.
WILLIE. I'll--I'll sit down. (He sits in arm-chair, mopping his brow.) I'm feeling queer-like. What dost want me for?
MAGGIE. To invest in. You're a business idea in the shape of a man.
WILLIE. I've got no head for business at all.
MAGGIE. But I have. My brain and your hands 'ull make a working partnership.
WILLIE (getting up, relieved). Partnership! Oh, that's a different thing. I thought you were axing me to wed you. (Moves up stage.)
MAGGIE. I am.
WILLIE (sitting in front of counter). Well, by gum! And you the master's daughter.
MAGGIE. Maybe that's why, Will Mossop. (Moving up stage.) Maybe I've had enough of father, and you're as different from him as any man I know. (Sits L. of him.)
WILLIE. It's a bit awkward-like.
MAGGIE. And you don't help me any, lad. What's awkward about it?
WILLIE. You talking to me like this.
MAGGIE. I'll tell you something, Will. It's a poor sort of woman who'll stay lazy when she sees her best chance slipping from her. A Salford life's too near the bone to lose things through the fear of speaking out.
WILLIE. I'm your best chance?
MAGGIE. You are that, Will.
WILLIE. Well, by gum! (Rises.) I never thought of this.
MAGGIE. Think of it now.
WILLIE. I am doing. Only the blow's a bit too sudden to think very clear. I've a great respect for you, Miss Maggie. You're a shapely body, and you're a masterpiece at selling in the shop, but when it comes to marrying, I'm bound to tell you that I'm none in love with you.
MAGGIE. Wait till you're asked. (Rises.) I want your hand in mine and your word for it that you'll go through life with me for the best we can get out of it.
WILLIE. We'd not get much without there's love between us, lass.
MAGGIE. I've got the love all right.
WILLIE. Well, I've not, and that's honest.
MAGGIE. We'll get along without.
WILLIE. You're desperate set on this. It's a puzzle to me all ways. What 'ud your father say?
MAGGIE. He'll say a lot, and he can say it. It'll make no difference to me.
WILLIE. Much better not upset him. It's not worth while.
MAGGIE. I'm judge of that. You're going to wed me, Will.
WILLIE. Oh, nay, I'm not. Really I can't do that, Maggie. I can see that I'm disturbing your arrangements like, but I'll be obliged if you'll put this notion from you.
MAGGIE. When I make arrangements, my lad, they're not made for upsetting.
WILLIE. What makes it so desperate awkward is that I'm tokened.
MAGGIE. You're what?
WILLIE. I'm tokened to Ada Figgins.
MAGGIE. Then you'll get loose and quick. Who's Ada Figgins? Do I know her? (Moves L. and turns.)
WILLIE. I'm the lodger at her mother's.
MAGGIE. The scheming hussy. It's not that sandy gill who brings your dinner? (Moves C.)
WILLIE. She's golden-haired is Ada. Aye, she'll be here soon.
MAGGIE. And so shall I. I'll talk to Ada. I've seen her and I know the breed. Ada's the helpless sort. (Turns L.)
WILLIE. She needs protecting.
MAGGIE. That's how she got you, was it? (Turns C.) Yes, I can see her clinging round your neck until you fancied you were strong. But I'll tell you this, my lad, it's a desperate poor kind of a woman that'll look for protection to the likes of you.
WILLIE. Ada does.
MAGGIE. And that gives me the weight of her. She's born to meekness, Ada is. You wed her, and you'll be an eighteen shilling a week bootmaker all the days of your life. You'll be a slave, and a contented slave.
WILLIE. I'm not ambitious that I know of.
MAGGIE. No. But you're going to be. I'll see to that. I've got my work cut out, but there's the makings of a man about you.
WILLIE. I wish you'd leave me alone. (Sits R.)
MAGGIE. So does the fly when the spider catches him. You're my man, Willie Mossop. (Moves to desk.)
WILLIE. Aye, so you say. Ada would tell another story, though.
(ADA FIGGINS enters from street. She is not ridiculous, but a weak, poor-blooded, poor-spirited girl of twenty, in clogs and shawl, with WILLIE'S dinner in a basin carried in a blue handkerchief. She crosses to him and gives him the basin.)
ADA (C.). There's your dinner, Will.
WILLIE. Thank you, Ada. (Rises.)
(She turns to go, and finds MAGGIE in her way.)
MAGGIE. I want a word with you. You're treading on my foot, young woman.
ADA. Me, Miss Hobson? (She looks stupidly at MAGGIE'S feet.)
MAGGIE. What's this with you and him?
ADA (gushing). Oh, Miss 'Obson, it is good of you to take notice like that.
WILLIE. Ada, she--
MAGGIE. You hold your hush. This is for me and her to settle. Take a fair look