ECHOES FROM THE THAMES
Scene—Houseboat in a good position. Time—Evening during "the Regatta week." Present (on deck in cozy chairs)—He and She.
She. Very pretty, the lights, are they not?
He. Perfectly charming. So nice after the heat.
She. Yes, and really, everything has been delightful.
He. Couldn't possibly be better. Wonderful how well it can be done.
She. Yes. But, of course, it wants management. You know a lot comes down from town.
He. Will the stores send so far?
She. Yes, and if they won't others will. And then the local tradespeople are very obliging.
He. But don't the servants rather kick at it?
She. No, because they are comfortable enough. Put them up in the neighbourhood.
He. Ah, to be sure. And your brother looks after the cellar so well.
She. Yes, he is quite a genius in that line.
He. And it's awfully nice chatting all day.
She. Yes, when one doesn't go to sleep.
He. And, of course, we can fall back upon the circulating libraries and the newspapers.
She. And so much better than town. It must be absolutely ghastly in Piccadilly.
He. Yes, so I hear. And then there's the racing!
She. Ah, to be sure. To tell the truth, I didn't notice that very much. Was there any winning?
He. Oh, yes, a lot. But I really quite forget what——
She. Oh, never mind. We can read all about it in to-morrow's papers, and that will be better than bothering about it now.
[Scene closes in to soft music on the banjo.
