ic.

(_She continues rummaging in the trunk while speaking._)

SARAH. Naw. It's not my fault. God knaws A'm game enough for
work, ould as A am. A allays knawed as A'd 'ave to work for my
living all th' days o' my life. A never was a savin' sort.

EMMA. Theer's nowt against thee for that. Theer's soom as can be
careful o' theer brass an' soom as can't. It's not a virtue, it's
a gift. That's what my moother allays says.

(_Resumes packing._)

SARAH. She's reeght an' all. We never 'ad the gift o' savin', my
man and me. An' when Tom Ormerod took an' died, the club money as
A drew all went on 'is funeral an' 'is gravestone. A warn't goin'
to 'ave it said as 'e warn't buried proper.

EMMA. It were a beautiful funeral, Mrs. Ormerod.

SARAH. Aye.

EMMA. A will say that, beautiful it were. A never seen a better,
an' A goes to all as A can. (_Rises._) A dotes on buryin's. Are
these the next?

(_Crosses before table for nightdresses, takes the nightdresses
and resumes packing._)

SARAH. Aye

(_Emma puts them in and rests on her knees listening to Sarah's
next speech._)

SARAH (_pause_). A've been a 'ouseproud woman all my life, Emma,
an' A've took pride in 'avin' my bits o' sticks as good as
another's. Even th' manager's missus oop to factory 'ouse theer,
she never 'ad a better show o' furniture nor me, though A says it
as shouldn't. An' it tak's brass to keep a decent 'ouse over your
yead. An' we allays 'ad our full week's 'ollydayin' at Blackpool
reg'lar at Wakes time. Us didn't 'ave no childer o' our own to
spend it on, an' us spent it on ourselves. A allays 'ad a plenty
o' good food in th' 'ouse an' never stinted nobody, an' Tom 'e
liked 'is beer an' 'is baccy. 'E were a pigeon-fancier, too, in
'is day, were my Tom, an' pigeon-fancying runs away wi' a mint o'
money. No. Soom'ow theer never was no brass to put in th' bank.
We was allays spent oop coom wages neeght.

EMMA. A knaw, Mrs. Ormerod. May be A'm young, but A knaw 'ow 't
is. We works cruel 'ard in th' mill, an' when us plays, us plays
as 'ard too (_pause_), an' small blame to us either. It's our
_own_ we're spendin'.

SARAH. Aye. It's a 'ard life, the factory 'and's. A can mind me
many an' many's the time when th' warnin' bell went on th'
factory lodge at ha'f past five of a winter's mornin' as A've
craved for another ha'f hour in my bed, but Tom 'e got me oop an'
we was never after six passin' through factory gates all th'
years we were wed. There