MAGGIE. That's enough, Will. You don't need to overdo it. You can sit down for five minutes, father. That sofa 'ull bear your weight. It's been tested.
(HOBSON sits on sofa, R. C. WILLIE goes back to the chair, R.)
WILLIE (taking up teapot). There's nobbut tea to drink and I reckon what's in the pot is stewed, so I'll—
MAGGIE (taking pot off him as he moves to fire-place with it). You'll not do owt of sort. Father likes his liquids strong.
WILLIE (down R. of table). A piece of pork pie now, Mr. Hobson?
HOBSON (groaning). Pork pie!
MAGGIE (sharply). You'll be sociable now you're here, I hope. (She pours tea at table, top end.)
HOBSON. It wasn't sociability that brought me, Maggie.
MAGGIE. What was it, then?
HOBSON. Maggie, I'm in disgrace. A sore and sad misfortune's fallen on me.