There’s not many passin’ at this time o’ night.
MISS PERKINS
It makes it so public. (She takes the blind from the lower part of the window and begins to mend it.) Where’s the white thread, Ma?
MRS PERKINS
Here y’ are. Now, make a job of it.
[Mr Perkins has returned to his paper, his daughter is more or less intent on her work, Mrs Perkins darns and yawns. Mr Perkins snores gently.
MRS PERKINS
Might as well all be asleep.
MISS PERKINS
Listen, Ma!