BLACKMORE
I shall swarf it up.
MRS. HOLROYD (snatching back the sheet)
Oh, you're as tiresome as everybody else.
BLACKMORE (putting down his basket and moving to door on right)
Well, I can soon wash my hands.
MRS. HOLROYD (ceasing to flap and fold pillowcases)
That roller-towel's ever so dirty. I'll get you another. (She goes to a drawer in the dresser, and then back toward the scullery, where is a sound of water)
BLACKMORE