MAGGIE Willie, come here.

(In a moment WILLIE appears, and stops half-way up.)

WILLIE. Yes, Miss Maggie?

MAGGIE (L. of trap.) Come up, and put the trap down, I want to talk to you.

(He comes, reluctantly.)

WILLIE. We're very busy in the cellar.

(MAGGIE points to trap. He closes it.)

MAGGIE. Show me your hands, Willie.

WILLIE. They're dirty. (He holds them out hesitatingly.)

MAGGIE. Yes, they're dirty, but they're clever. They can shape the leather like no other man's that ever came into the shop. Who taught you, Willie? (She retains his hands.)

WILLIE. Why, Miss Maggie, I learnt my trade here.

MAGGIE. Hobson's never taught you to make boots the way you do.

WILLIE. I've had no other teacher.

MAGGIE (dropping his hands.) And needed none. You're a natural born genius at making boots. It's a