EMMA. What dost want?
SAM (on the doorstep). A want a word wi' thee, Emma Brierley. A followed thee oop from factory and A've bin waitin' out theer till A'm tired o' waitin'.
EMMA. Well, tha'd better coom in. A 'aven't time to talk wi' thee at door.
(EMMA lets him in, closes door, and, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, resumes work on her knees at the box. SAM HORROCKS is a hulking young man of a rather vacant expression. He is dressed in mechanic's blue dungarees. His face is oily and his clothes stained. He wears boots, not clogs. He mechanically takes a ball of oily black cotton-waste from his right pocket when in conversational difficulties and wipes his hands upon it. He has a red muffler round his neck without collar, and his shock affair hair is surmounted by a greasy black cap, which covers perhaps one tenth of it.)
SAM (after watching EMMA's back for a moment). Wheer's Mrs.
Ormerod?
EMMA (without looking up). What's that to do wi' thee?
SAM (apologetically). A were only askin'. Tha needn't be short wi' a chap.
EMMA. She's in scullery washin' 'er, if tha wants to knaw.
SAM. Oh!
EMMA (looking at him over her shoulder after a slight pause).
Doan't tha tak' thy cap off in 'ouse, Sam Horrocks?