Gibson! We
ain't responsible!
GIBSON: It is my factory and I'm going to run it! Any man of you not
back at work in ten minutes on the old scale of wages will be fired!
[_The members whoop with joy._ FRANKEL _and_ CARTER _both try
to shake hands with_ GIBSON _at once._]
CARTER: Well, that's a relief to _me_. Thank you, Mr. Gibson!
FRANKEL: That takes a heap off my mind!
RILEY: God bless you, sir!
GIBSON: Never mind that! You go back to work.
[_Whooping, the committee, in great spirits and with the
greatest friendliness to one another, depart rapidly. Closing
the door_, GIBSON _turns briskly to_ NORA, _and speaks in a
businesslike way._]
GIBSON: Nora, will you marry me?
NORA [_meekly_]: Yes--I will.
GIBSON: Will you marry me to-day?
NORA [_with a little more spirit_]: Yes, I will!
GIBSON: Will you go with me and marry me right now?
NORA [_more loudly and promptly_]: Yes, I will!
GIBSON: Well, then--
[_He gets his hat and coat, then thinks of something he wants
from his desk and goes over to get it. Meantime_ NORA, _not
moving so rapidly as_ GIBSON, _but more thoughtfully, goes up
to the wall where hang her jacket and hat, takes off her apron,
puts on the jacket and hat and goes to the door that leads to
the street, where she stands waiting. There is a knock on the
factory door, which opens without waiting, and_ SIMPSON _comes
in._]
SIMPSON: I don't want to detain you if you're goin' out, Mr.
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