EMMA (approaching threateningly). Sam Horrocks, if tha doan't tell me proper what tha means A 'll give tha such a slap in th' mouth.
SAM (backing before her). Tha does fluster a feller, Emma. Just like ma moother.
EMMA. A wish A 'ad bin. A'd 'ave knocked some sense into thy silly yead.
SAM (suddenly and clumsily kneels above chair left of table).
Wilt tha 'ave me, Emma? A mak' good money in th'engine-house.
EMMA. Get oop, tha great fool. If tha didn't keep thasel' so close wi' tha moonin' about in th' engine-'ouse an' never speakin' a word to nobody, tha'd knaw A were keepin' coompany wi' Joe Hindle.
SAM (scrambling up). Is that a fact, Emma?
EMMA. Of course it's a fact. Banns 'ull be oop come Sunday fortneeght. We've not 'idden it neither. It's just like the great blind idiot that tha art not to 'a' seen it long enough sin'.
SAM. A wer'n't aware. By gum, A 'ad so 'oped as tha'd 'ave me,
Emma.
EMMA (a little more softly). A'm sorry if A've 'urt thee, Sam.
SAM. Aye. It were ma fault. Eh, well, A think mebbe A'd best be goin'.