(Sits on chair.)
EMMA. Aye. A'll soon settle 'em a bit tighter.
(Lifts all out, buries her arms in the box, and rearranges its contents.)
SARAH. But what's 'appened to thy looms, lass? They'll not weave by 'emselves while thee's 'ere, tha knows.
EMMA (looking round). Eh, looms is all reeght. Factory's stopped.
It's Saturday afternoon.
SARAH. So 't is. A'd clean forgot. A do forget time o' th' week sittin' 'ere day arter day wi' nought to do.
EMMA. So that's all reeght. Tha's no need to worry about me.
Tha's got trouble enough of thy own.
(Resuming at the box)
SARAH. Aye, th' art reeght theer, lass. Theer's none on us likes to think o' goin' to workus when we're ould.
EMMA. 'Appen it'll be all reeght after all. Parson's coomin' to see thee.