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Damn it! Damn those damn women! Reporters! They called in the damn reporters!

Oh Hattie! Hattie! You’re a fool! Grabbed your mop but not your coat! You’re going to freeze to death, you are, unless Mr. Jones goes back to the warehouse quickly! Where is he? What in the devil is he doing out here? Roaming the hills? Hmmm… Maybe he’s having a change of heart, he is, and came out here to have a think on it.

Hattie? Hattie! What are you doing out here?

Just cleaning up a bit, Mr. Jones.

Hattie, you’re mopping the grass.

Aye, it’s gotten muddy, sir. From the rains. I thought if I attacked the problem at the source I could cut down on the mud gettin’ tracked across your office floor.

You followed me out here, didn’t you.

Why, Mr. Jones, I would never think of doing such a thing!

You’ve been spying on me ever since I got here. Always swishing your mop outside my door listening to my conversations!

I swish my mop to clean the mud you track on the floors, sir!

Do you remember the oath you signed with the American government?

Oath, sir?

The paper you signed. When you took this job.

Aye, sir, I seem to recall some paper.

In that paper, there was a provision for spying. Do you remember that provision, Hattie?

I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t. You see, I don’t read.

You don’t read, huh?

No. I’m just a cleaning woman, sir. The only thing I know how to do is mop floors.

Then what are those books you’ve always got in your pocket?

Books, sir?

Yes, books.

Oh, the books. They’re… picture books. Full of pictures.

They’re not picture books. They’re romance novels. I see you sneak into the broom closet to read them. And I hear you sighing in there when you do.

I don’t sigh, sir!

You sigh. You sigh for the romance when you read those books.

No, sir. You’re wrong. I weep. And not for the romance, but for the lack of it.

Weep, sigh, it’s all the same to me. But you read. And you read that oath before signing it because I saw you read it!

No sir! I didn’t! I was just moving my eyes!

Do you know what Washington does to spies, Hattie?

No.

They put them in jail.

Oh.

Hallo?

Help!

Hattie, get back here!

He’s going to put me in jail, he is!

Who’s going to put you in jail?

Mr. Jones! He’s accusing me of being a spy!

Oh! Well, good. Well, look. Don’t listen to what the women say about me. They’ve got it all wrong.

And I say, sir, that the women have got it right. He’s a bully, he is.

I am not!

And he ought to be ashamed of himself, picking on an old woman like me!

I didn’t pick on her!

He was picking on me, sir, right before you got here. He chased me over that hill!

I didn’t chase you over the hill!

Him, a full-grown man, chasing me, an old woman-

I didn’t chase her!

And then scaring me half to death by threatening to put me in jail!

I’m not going to put you in jail!

Alright then. I’ll be on my way, sir, now that that’s settled.

Wait a minute! Hattie!

Yes, Mr. Jones?

Where are you going?

Back to the warehouse.

To do what?

To mop the floor.

What floor?

The floor in your office.

Stay out of my office.

But there’s mud in your office, sir. You didn’t wipe your feet-

I don’t want you going into my office! Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Mr. Jones, you can always make an exception.

That’s right! And the State Department allows for exceptions too! It says so right here in their regulations!

Hattie! I thought you said you couldn’t read!

I lied.

And what’s that.

Love!

The Scottish people are quite capable of looking out for our own welfare, Mr. Jones. We don’t need you or the American government to do that for us.

This is why no one likes Americans, sir. You think you know what’s best for everyone.

You did?

Yes.

Everyone did.

That’s my decision. I’m not going to discuss it any further. Hattie?

Sir?

If you want to keep your job, I expect to see you back at the warehouse.

Yes, sir.

You’ve done everything you possibly could.

Not everything.

What do you mean, Hattie?

We can just take them.

You mean, the clothes?

Yes.

How do we do that?

I’ll let you in through the back entrance. Where there isn’t a guard.

And then what?

We take the clothes and bring them back here!

We can’t carry 11,000 pieces of clothing!

Of course we can!

How!?

Because… there will be 200 of us carrying them! I’m going to open the front gates and let the women inside, too. In front of the reporters and the cameras…

Hattie, you’ll be arrested.

Yes. I know. We all will. But the clothing won’t be burned. Not if the telly is showing pictures of 200 women going off to jail for wanting to do the laundry.

You’re right! Come on, let’s go.

No. You stay here. (But) We need you out here. To talk to the reporters!

Adam?

We’ve got to go.

Hattie, wait-

We don’t have much time. Come on!

with a number.

Mr. Livingston?

Hattie?

Hattie?

Mr. Livingston! Your wife! Your wife!

Yes. We’ve got the clothes. All this time I’ve been trying to turn their hatred into love. But the hatred I needed to turn was my own.

I’m full of hate too.

Are you, love?

Aye. I hate the men who did this.