Here, on Old Town Moor Lane, in their snow-soft winter-crisp ice-bright nightclothes, wrapped in fine wool of naval blue, protected by the authority and strength of the Town Moor Workhouse, a refuge from poverty, a fortress of cold stone, sleeps Nellie Oliver, Workhouse Matron, and her husband, the Workhouse Master. Master Oliver, worn by constant care, maddened by greeting, homing and feeding, the challenge of balancing the books and legality, and holding on to soft cottons and fine wools, panics from gentle sleep, upright in the dark, and nudges his lovely Nellie in the ribs, snoring away, a train of flesh and blood.
MASTER OLIVER : Matron Oliver! Matron Oliver! We must begin the day at once.
NELLIE OLIVER : Five more minutes.
MASTER OLIVER : Matron Oliver!
NELLIE OLIVER : We will be up with the dawn. We have plenty of time.
MASTER OLIVER : But we must take the new inmates from the relieving officer.
NELLIE OLIVER : They won't arrive at the gate 'til after noon.
MASTER OLIVER : We must ensure the day's laundry is gathered and washed.
NELLIE OLIVER : The pauper children must see to that, and so earn their keep.
MASTER OLIVER : But how will they know
NELLIE OLIVER : – when the factory bells ring, dear.
MASTER OLIVER : when it is time to begin their daily chores, my dearest?
NELLIE OLIVER : They can't start until the beds are all cleared.
MASTER OLIVER : Then we must wake everyone to clear the wards.
NELLIE OLIVER : It's dark and the porters can't remove the dead yet.
MASTER OLIVER : And we must send out for the doctors' assistants.
NELLIE OLIVER : There's no point calling for the cadavers
MASTER OLIVER : – we must remove the dead, dear.
NELLIE OLIVER : when we don't know if there are any, my dearest.
MASTER OLIVER : But if there are no dead, then we must pay the doctors!
NELLIE OLIVER : We have enough on day-labour if we must pay.
MASTER OLIVER : And we need more new uniforms, it's like they eat cloth.
NELLIE OLIVER : We'll buy cheap cloth and have them sew their own.
MASTER OLIVER : We need blue striped seersucker for the plain clothes, then.
NELLIE OLIVER : They could cut aprons from old sailcloth.
MASTER OLIVER : And the red clothes for the loose women and their children?
NELLIE OLIVER : Old red sails must be as cheap as plain.
MASTER OLIVER : If we can save just a little bit of money
NELLIE OLIVER : – we need not spend much on inmates, dear.
MASTER OLIVER : then we shall live more comfortably, my dearest.