use, Emma?

EMMA. Aye.

SAM. Wert ever in it?

EMMA. Not sin' tha moother died.

SAM. Naw. A suppose not. Not sin' ma moother died. She were a
fine woman, ma moother, for all she were bed-ridden.

EMMA. She were better than 'er son, though that's not saying much
neither.

SAM. Naw, but tha does mind ma 'ouse, Emma, as it were when she
were alive?

EMMA. Aye.

SAM. A 've done a bit at it sin' them days. Got a new quilt on
bed from Co-op. Red un, it is, wi' blue stripes down 'er.

EMMA. Aye.

SAM. Well, Emma?

EMMA (_over her shoulder_). Well, what? What's thy 'ouse an' thy
quilt to do wi' me?

SAM. Oh, nought.--Tha doesn't 'elp a feller much, neither.

EMMA. (_Rises and faces him. SAM is behind corner table and backs
a little before her._) What's tha gettin' at, Sam Horrocks? Tha's
got a tongue in thy faice, hasn't tha?

SAM. A suppose so. A doan't use it much though.

EMMA. No. Tha's not much better than a tongue-tied idiot, Sam
Horrocks, allays mooning about in th' engine-house in daytime an'
sulkin' at 'ome neeghttime.

SAM. Aye, A'm lonely sin' ma moother died. She did 'ave a way wi'
'er, ma moother. Th' 'ould plaice 'as not bin t' same to me sin'
she went. Daytime, tha knaws, A'm all reeght. Tha sees, them
engines, them an' me's pals. They talks to me an' A understands
their ways. A doan't some'ow seem to understand th' ways o' folks
like as A does th' ways o' them engines.

EMMA. Tha doesn't try. T' other lads goes rattin' or
dog-feeghtin' on a Sunday or to a football match of a Saturday
afternoon. Tha stays moonin' about th' 'ouse. Tha's not likely to
understand folks. Tha's not sociable.

SAM. Naw. That's reeght enough. A nobbut get laughed at when A
tries to be sociable an' stand my corner down at th' pub wi' th'
rest o' th' lads. It's no use ma tryin' to soop ale; A can't
carry th' drink like t' others. A knaws A've ways o' ma own.

EMMA. Tha has that.

SAM. A'm terrible lonesome, Emma. That theer 'ouse o' mine, it do
want a wench about th' plaice. Th' engines is all reeght for
days, but th' neeghts is that lonesome-like tha wouldn't believe.

EMMA. Tha's only thasel' to blame. It's nought to do wi' me,
choosehow.

SAM. Naw? A'd--A'd 'oped as 'ow it might 'ave, Emma.

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