, they'll let thee wear un all reeght.

SARAH (_as she goes_). A'll go an' get un. (_Exit right, returning
presently with the white nightcaps._) That's all now.

(_Gives them to_ EMMA _who meets her at centre._)

EMMA (_putting them in_). Yo' never 'ad no childer, did yo', Mrs.
Ormerod?

SARAH. No, Emma, no--maybe that's as broad as's long. (_Sits above
fire._) Yo' never knaw 'ow they go. Soom on 'em turn again yo'
when they're growed, or they get wed themselves an' forget all as
yo' 've done for 'em, like a many A could name, and they're
allays a worrit to yo' when they're young.

EMMA. A'm gettin' wed masel' soon, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Are yo', now, Emma? Well, tha art not one o' them
graceless good-for-nowts. Tha'll never forget thy moother, A
knaw, nor what she's done for thee. Who's tha keepin' coompany
with?

EMMA. It's Joe Hindle as goes wi' me, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. 'Indle, 'Indle? What, not son to Robert 'Indle, 'im as
used to be overlooker in th' factory till 'e went to foreign
parts to learn them Roossians 'ow to weave?

EMMA. Aye, that's 'im.

SARAH. Well, A dunno aught about th' lad. 'Is faither were a fine
man. A minds 'im well. But A'll tell thee this, Emma, an' A'll
tell it thee to thy faice, 'e's doin' well for 'isself, is young
Joe 'Indle.

EMMA. Thankee, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Gettin' wed! Think o' that. Why, it seems as 't were only
t'other day as tha was runnin' about in short frocks, an' now
tha's growed up and gettin' thasel' wed! Time do run on. Sithee,
Emma, tha's a good lass, A've gotten an ould teapot in yonder
(_indicating her bedroom_) as my moother give me when A was wed. A
weren't for packing it in box because o' risk o' breaking it. A
were going to carry it in my 'and. A'd a mind to keep it till A
died, but A reckon A'll 'ave no use for it in workus.

EMMA. Tha's not gone theer yet.

SARAH. Never mind that. (_Slowly rises._) A'm going to give it
thee, lass, for a weddin' gift. Tha'll tak' care of it, A knaw,
and when thy eye catches it, 'appen tha'll spare me a thowt.

EMMA. Oh, no, Mrs. Ormerod, A couldn't think o' takkin' it.

SARAH. Art too proud to tak' a gift from me?

EMMA. No. Tha knaws A'm not.

SARAH. Then hold thy hush. A'll be back in a minute. Happen A'd
best tidy masel' up too against Parson cooms.

EMMA. Can A help thee, Mrs. Ormerod?

SARAH. No, lass, no. A can do a bit for masel'. My 'ands isn't
that bad; A canna weave wi' 'em, but A can do all a