Yu don' never get no change, not in my profession.
[She oscillates the trousers] I've a-been in trousers fifteen year;
ever since I got to old for laundry.

PRESS. [Writing] "For fifteen years sewn trousers." What would a
good week be, Mrs. Lemmy?

MRS. L. 'Tes a very gude week, five shellin's.

LEMMY. [From the window] Bloomin' millionairess, Muvver. She's
lookin' forward to 'eaven, where vey don't wear no trahsers.

MRS. L. [With spirit] 'Tidn for me to zay whether they du. An'
'tes on'y when I'm a bit low-sperrity-like as I wants to go therr.
What I am a-lukin' forward to, though, 'tes a day in the country.
I've not a-had one since before the war. A kind lady brought me in
that bit of 'eather; 'tes wonderful sweet stuff when the 'oney's in
et. When I was a little gell I used to zet in the 'eather gatherin'
the whorts, an' me little mouth all black wi' eatin' them. 'Twas in
the 'eather I used to zet, Sundays, courtin'. All flesh is grass--
an' 'tesn't no bad thing--grass.

PRESS. [Writing] "The old paganism of the country." What is your
view of life, Mrs. Lemmy?

LEMMY. [Suddenly] Wot is 'er voo of life? Shall I tell yer mine?
Life's a disease--a blinkin' oak-apple! Daon't myke no mistyke. An'
'umen life's a yumourous disease; that's all the difference. Why--
wot else can it be? See the bloomin' promise an' the blighted
performance--different as a 'eadline to the noos inside. But yer
couldn't myke Muvver see vat--not if yer talked to 'er for a wok.
Muvver still believes in fings. She's a country gell; at a 'undred
and fifty she'll be a country gell, won't yer, old lydy?

MRS. L. Well, 'tesn't never been 'ome to me in London. I lived in
the country forty year--I did my lovin' there; I burried father
therr. Therr bain't nothin' in life, yu know, but a bit o' lovin'--
all said an' done; bit o' lovin', with the wind, an' the stars out.

LEMMY. [In a loud apologetic whisper] She 'yn't often like this. I
told yer she'd got a glawss o' port in 'er.

MRS. L. 'Tes a brave pleasure, is lovin'. I likes to zee et in
young folk. I likes to zee 'em kissin'; shows the 'eart in 'em.
'Tes the 'eart makes the world go round; 'tesn't nothin' else, in my
opinion.

PRESS. [Writing] "--sings the swan song of the heart."----

MRS. L. [Overhearing] No, I never yeard a swan sing--never! But I
tell 'ee what I 'eve 'eard; the Bells singin' in th' orchard 'angin'
up the clothes to dry, an'