The parlour as Act I. The time is seven o'clock on a sunny evening three weeks later. The stage is empty. Then Martha opens a door, looks in, enters, comes c., hesitates and sits. She is dressed in her best and looks like a country servant girl on a Sunday evening. She carries a small handbag. Sally enters from house.
SALLY (crossing and pulling up short on seeing Martha). Well, I never did see the like of you, Martha Wrigley. Strolling in and sitting you down as if you owned the place. Martha. Are you speaking to me?
SALLY. I'm not addressing my remarks to the table. Martha (with great hauteur). I believe I'm speaking to Mrs. Munning's kitchen-maid.
SALLY. Kitchen-maid! I'm a lady-help. And you couldn't get a job at cleaning steps yourself.
MARTHA. I want some of your impudence, my girl. Sally. Impudence! From me to you! I've known when you came begging a slice of bread from my lunch when we were at school, and——
MARTHA. Times change, don't they, Sally? I'm sitting in the parlour now, and your place is in the kitchen. You'll keep it, too.
SALLY. You know very well I'm only obliging Mrs. Munning temporarily.
MARTHA. I know you're idling your time in here and if you don't want me to show you up to Mrs. Munning for a dawdling slouch, you'll keep the sweet side of me.
SALLY. You do think you're some one because you're going to marry Zack. It might be Mr. Paul the fuss you make.
MARTHA (rising). It's a pity that folk can't control themselves.