SAM. Naw.
EMMA. Well, tha can tak' it off in this 'ouse or get t' t'other side o' door.
SAM. (Takes off his cap and stuffs it in his left pocket after trying his right and finding the ball of waste in it.) Yes, Emma.
(EMMA resumes work with her back towards him and waits for him to speak. But he is not ready yet.)
EMMA. Well, what dost want?
SAM. Nought.—Eh, but tha art a gradely wench.
EMMA. What's that to do wi' thee?
SAM. Nought.
EMMA. Then just tha mind thy own business, an' doan't pass compliments behind folks' backs.
SAM. A didn't mean no 'arm.