TUBBY (turning on her). You're not telling me neither. And I'm supposed to take my orders from the shop.
ALICE. I don't know what to tell you. Nobody seems to want any boots made.
TUBBY. The high-class trade has dropped like a stone this last month. Of course we can go on making clogs for stock if you like.
ALICE. Then you'd better.
TUBBY. You know what's got by selling clogs won't pay the rent, let alone wages, but if clogs are your orders, Miss Alice—(He moves towards trap.)
ALICE. You suggested it.
TUBBY. I made the remark. (Starts going down.) But I'm not a rash man, and I'm not going to be responsible to the master with his temper so nowty and all since Miss Maggie went.
ALICE. Oh, dear! What would Miss Maggie have told you to do?
TUBBY. I couldn't tell you that, Miss, I'm sure. I don't recollect things being as slack as this in her time.
VICKEY. You don't help us much for an intelligent foreman.