MAGGIE. It's about what you deserve. (Goes to him.)
HOBSON. Have you got any more consolation for me, Will?
WILLIE (aggrieved). I only spoke what came into my mind.
HOBSON. Well, have you spoken it all?
WILLIE. I can keep my mouth shut if you'd rather.
HOBSON. Don't strain yourself, Will Mossop. When a man's mind is full of thoughts like yours, they're better out than in. You let them come, my lad. They'll leave a cleaner place behind.
WILLIE. I'm not much good at talking, and I always seem to say wrong things when I do talk. I'm sorry if my well-meant words don't suit your taste, but I thought you came here for advice.
HOBSON. I didn't come to you, you jumped-up cock-a-hooping—(Rising.)
MAGGIE. That 'ull do, father. (Pushes him down.) My husband's trying to help you.
HOBSON (glares impatiently for a time, then meekly says). Yes, Maggie.