MRS. L. No, sir. Mary Lemmy. I've seen a-many die, I 'ave; an' not one grievin'. I often says to meself: [With a little laugh] "Me dear, when yu go, yu go 'appy. Don' yu never fret about that," I says. An' so I will; I'll go 'appy. [She stays quite still a moment, and behind her LEMMY draws one finger across his face.] [Smiling] "Yore old fengers'll 'ave a rest. Think o' that!" I says. "'Twill be a brave change." I can see myself lyin' there an' duin' nothin'. [Again a pause, while MRS. LEMMY sees herself doing nothing.] LEMMY. Tell abaht Jim; old lydy. MRS. L. My son Jim 'ad a family o' seven in six years. "I don' know 'ow 'tes, Mother," 'e used to say to me; "they just sim to come!" That was Jim--never knu from day to day what was cumin'. "Therr's another of 'em dead," 'e used to say, "'tes funny, tu" "Well," I used to say to 'im; "no wonder, poor little things, livin' in they model dwellin's. Therr's no air for 'em," I used to say. "Well," 'e used to say, "what can I du, Mother? Can't afford to live in Park Lane:" An' 'e take an' went to Ameriky. [Her voice for the first time is truly doleful] An' never came back. Fine feller. So that's my four sons--One's dead, an' one's in--That, an' one's in Ameriky, an' Bob 'ere, poor boy, 'e always was a talker. [LEMMY, who has re-seated himself in the window and taken up his fiddle, twangs the strings.] PRESS. And now a few words about your work, Mrs. Lemmy? MRS. L. Well, I sews. PRESS. [Writing] "Sews." Yes? MRS. L. [Holding up her unfinished pair of trousers] I putt in the button'oles, I stretches the flies, I lines the crutch, I putt on this bindin', [She holds up the calico that binds the top] I sews on the buttons, I press the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair. PRESS. Twopence three farthings a pair! Worse than a penny a line! MRS. L. In a gude day I gets thru four pairs, but they'm gettin' plaguey 'ard for my old fengers. PRESS. [Writing] "A monumental figure, on whose labour is built the mighty edifice of our industrialism." LEMMY. I sy--that's good. Yer'll keep that, won't yet? MRS. L. I finds me own cotton, tuppence three farthin's, and other expension is a penny three farthin's. PRESS. And are you an exception, Mrs. Lemmy? MRS. L. What's that? LEMMY. Wot price the uvvers, old lydy? Is there a lot of yer sewin' yer fingers orf at tuppence 'ypenny the pair? MRS. L. I can't tell yu that. I never sees nothin' in 'ere. I pays a penny to that little gell to bring me a dozen pair an' fetch 'em back. Poor little thing, she'm 'ardly strong enough to carry 'em. Feel! They'm very 'eavy! PRESS. On the conscience of Society! LEMMY. I sy put that dahn, won't yer? PRESS. Have things changed much since the war, Mrs. Lemmy? MRS. L. Cotton's a lot dearer. PRESS. All round, I mean.