Mary. It's one that isn't often hushed in here. Matthew's busy.
Henri (_half entering. Mary gives back_). Too busy to see us, Madame Butterworth?
Joe (_entering and speaking importantly_). Tell him the 'Friends of the People are here to see him on the people's business.
(_Henri and Martin enter, Martin closing the door._)
Mary (_raising the candle to their faces_). I know you. I know you all. You, Joe Healey and young Martin Kendall, and you--you're the Frenchman.
Henri (_bowing_). I am the Frenchman, madame.
Mary (_replacing the candle, disgustedly_). Radicals, the three of you.
Joe (_reprovingly_). We are Friends of the People.
Joe. Yes, of ourselves and of you and of Matthew there. We are the people.
Mary (_militantly_). You're Radicals. And my Matthew's not a redcap like that Frenchie there that's fled his country to come disturbing quiet English folk with his nonsense.
Henri. I left my country when the Bourbons entered it again. (_Rhetorically._) The blood I'd shed for freedom----
Joe (_interrupting_). We'll talk to Matthew about all that.
Mary (_standing, barring the door_). You will not talk to Matthew. I'll not have my man made a Radical, and run his head into a noose for the sake of----
Martin (_quietly_). For the sake of freedom.
Henri. You are free to starve. To be slaves of the cotton masters, who treat you worse than any grand seigneur would have treated his peasants under the Bourbons.
Joe. He's not too busy to attend to us. We want him out.
Joe. I think we shall. (_Calling._) Matthew! Matthew Butterworth!
Mary. Yes, you may call. You'll burst your lungs before he'll hear in there. He's working. You're idling. Don't try to interrupt a better man.
(_Henri makes as if to force her from door, Joe checks him._)
Joe. That's why we want him with us. Because we know him for the best weaver in these parts. Because he's treated by the master different from us and works at home instead of being driven into the factory. We want the best man on the people's side and none of us but gives old Matthew best. That's what we think of your husband, Mrs. Butterworth.
Mary. And it's what I think, so you needn't fancy that it's news to me. He's better sense than to go wasting time on a pack of crazy Radicals.