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
I think you're daughters should be here.
I might find some if I looked hard.
I'm paying thee brass to tell me.
And do you seriously require me to tell you the cause, Mr Hobson?
Chronic alcoholism, if you know what that means.
I've not same chance I had before I married.
I've 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 wilna do him any good without your medicine to back me up. He needs a tight hand on him all the time.
Put a collar on for Will Mossop? There's something wrong with your sense of proportion, my girl.
Father, either I can go home or you can go and put a collar on for Will. I'll have him treated with respect.
I expect you'd put a collar on in any case, father.
You're always pretending to folk about you're husband, Maggie, but you needn't keep it up with us. We know Will here.
If he goes, I go with him, father. You'd better speak out, Will.
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.